


The Subtleties That Make Mass Murderers Out of Otherwise Decent Beings

by hell0lust



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Sirius, Death Eater Sirius Black, Death Eaters, Drama, Espionage, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 80,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell0lust/pseuds/hell0lust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fall of 1979. The Marauders have been out of Hogwarts for a year and have joined the Order. Dumbledore has a mission for Sirius: re-enter pure-blooded society and infiltrate Voldemort's inner circle. Dumbledore insists that any costs are an acceptable loss for the greater good of the cause. But once blood has been spilled, no amount of crying can wash the red from his guilty hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on fanfiction.net

_Sirius sat nervously at a table in the Hog’s Head, eyes fixated on the front door. He had chosen a seat in one of the tavern’s particularly dark corners, knowing that privacy was necessary for this impending meeting. Hand trembling, he brought his glass to his lips,wincing as the cheap firewhiskey burned his throat going down. He glanced at his watch, biting his lower lip. They had agreed to meet at nine, and it was nearly half past. What could be keeping him? At last, he caught sight of Dumbledore entering the establishment, forcing himself to remain seated, lest he draw attention to himself. Sirius watched Dumbledore exchange words with the barman, fingers drumming nervously against the table. “Can he just hurry up already?” he muttered under his breath._  
  
_At last, he came to join Sirius at the table, taking a seat across from him. “You said you needed to meet with me, Mr. Black?” he asked, blue eyes twinkling._  
  
_Sirius nodded, a chill running down his spine. He hated when Dumbledore stared at him like that, with his piercing gaze; it felt as though he was seeing through him to his very core, a thought which shook him considerably. “I... I killed someone. A muggle... They said it was my... initiation...” he trailed off, tugging at the left sleeve of his robe. His forearm ached dully, the mark having been put there mere hours before._  
  
_“You have done well so far, Sirius. They have allowed you to join their ranks. They trust you,” Dumbledore remarked, unperturbed by his confession._  
  
_“But I... I killed him. An innocent muggle. Doesn’t that... make me as bad as them?” Sirius sputtered, sloshing some of his drink onto himself._  
  
_Dumbledore observed him a moment, a single eyebrow raised. “You have done what was required of you for the task you have at hand, Sirius.”_  
  
_“But you can’t really expect me to just go along with this, can you? Am I supposed to just do what they say? Kill more people if it is asked of me? I don’t think I can do this, sir-”_  
  
_“When you accepted this mission, I told you that it would be far more dangerous than you could ever imagine. You have succeeded in doing what we need of you; infiltrating their ranks. You can not back down now,” Dumbledore interrupted, his tone stern._  
  
_“But sir, I’m not a killer, I-”_  
  
_“You will do whatever it takes to assist the Order in defeating Him and his followers. Whatever you must do to maintain your position among their ranks, you must do. Every kill is justified for the good of the cause. The greater good far outweighs whatever the costs may be,” Dumbledore continued, standing suddenly._  
  
_“Go home to your wife, Sirius,” he instructed. “And remember, it is for the greater good.” ___

* * *

Sirius was bored. Far beyond simply bored, actually; mind-numbingly, infuriatingly bored. A full year had passed since he and his fellow Marauders had finished their time at Hogwarts. At the time, Sirius had been excited, intoxicated by the promise of adventure and the bright and shining future he had destined for him. However, as was often the case in his life, things had not gone exactly as planned. For instance, his dream of becoming an auror had been quickly dashed away. His parents had seen fit to that, their influence barring him from holding any post with the Ministry. That had been disappointing, certainly, but he had gotten over it, as soon after he had been asked to join the Order of the Phoenix, an underground resistance fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Surely, joining the fight against Voldemort would satiate his desire for adventure and excitement. But alas, his dreams of fighting alongside the senior members of the Order had yet to come to fruition; a year had passed, and still Alastor Moody insisted that he continue to contribute to the cause from the sidelines, claiming that he was too young, too reckless to be trusted to join in combat. To further exacerbate matters, his friends had all but abandoned him. James and Lily had managed to surpass their already nauseating degree of coupledom by tying the knot. Six months after graduating, James had moved out of the flat he had been sharing with Sirius in London, relocating to Godric’s Hollow to a charming cottage with the newly Mrs. Lily Potter. Sirius could have handled the distance, could have overlooked the obnoxiousness of their lovey-doveyness had he not received the ultimate snub; James had rejected his numerous requests for company, instead electing to spend his free time amongst other couples.  
  
“When did everyone start paring off, anyway?” Sirius muttered despondently, swirling the amber drink in his glass. Another evening had come and passed, leaving Sirius with nothing but firewhiskey for company. Remus wasn’t much better, he thought, bringing the glass to his lips. He drained the glass, carelessly wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Remus, ever the proud individual, had refused his and James’ offers of financial support, instead electing to work at some Muggle library for a pittance. He too had been barred from work at the Ministry, although admittedly for a far more sinister reason. Still, Sirius reasoned, being a werewolf hadn’t held Remus back completely. After all, he thought darkly, _he_ had been trusted to participate in missions for the Order. Peter had all but disappeared, too busy caring for his ill mother to be bothered with his so-called friends, his brothers.  
  
Sirius liked conflict. He always had. During his teenage years, he had found a giddy thrill in disobeying his mother’s demands by associating with blood-traitors and muggle-borns. Now that he was older, he still found enjoyment in getting a rise out of Moody and the older Order members by gallivanting around with his childhood friend, Evelyn Greengrass. Though he’d never admit it to James or the others, Sirius secretly preferred the company of pure-blooded women, specifically Slytherins. He found their icy demeanor preferable to the hot-tempered Gryffindor girls and silly, giggly Huffelpuff girls he had spent his teen years fooling around with in secluded corners of the castle. He had dated a few Ravenclaws, but had found their serious, bookish sensibilities unnerving. Moody chastised his relationship with Evelyn constantly, insinuating that she, as a pure-blooded Slytherin, was the enemy and could not be trusted, which only encouraged Sirius to continue seeing her.

* * *

Growing aggravated with his solitude , Sirius decided to go out to continue drinking. He apparated to the London entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, swinging the door open to enter the establishment. As he had predicted, he spotted a lithe blonde seated at the far end of the bar, staring down into her cocktail. Sirius grinned, shoving through the crowd to make his way towards her. “Fancy seeing you here, Evie,” Sirius greeted her, grabbing her martini glass from off the bar. He took a sip, wincing as the taste of juniper berries overwhelmed his palate. “Merlin, Evelyn, what are you drinking, straight gin?” he sputtered, slamming the glass back down.  
  
Evelyn smirked, calmly raising the glass to her lips, tossing her head back and draining its contents with a single gulp. “Naturally, darling. What else would I be drinking?”  
  
“Fair point,” Sirius agreed, taking a seat beside her. “So... I assume he’s with the wife, tonight?”  
  
Evelyn sighed, signaling to the bartender to fix her another drink. “Narcissa was quite insistent that he spend more time at home,” she affirmed, her lips forming a scowl.  
  
“It appears word got out that his ‘business trip’ was a long weekend in Paris with moi,” she continued, taking a sip of her drink.  
  
“Cissy always was insanely jealous of you, you know,” Sirius noted, pausing to give the bartender his drink order.  
  
“I mean you two dated all through school and... she was fuming, you know, when it seemed likely that he was going to ask you to marry him,” he continued, taking a sip of his glass of firewhiskey.  
  
Evelyn clicked her tongue, taking a dainty sip of her drink. “Yeah, well, you saw how well that all worked out,” she muttered.  
  
Sirius sighed. “You know that Malfoy had no choice but to go along with the marriage. A Black-Malfoy union was a necessity; Lucius’ father dwindled away most of their family fortune. A degenerate gambler, that one was. Cissy wanted Lucius, and she knew she had the money to to throw at his family to convince him. He married her for the sake of his family.”  
  
“I know. Doesn’t change the fact that he spurned me for the sake of _them_ ,” she retorted, staring down into her glass.  
  
“You didn’t really love that wanker, did you, Evie?” Sirius queried, taking a swig of his drink.  
  
Evelyn frowned, again draining her glass. She waved her hand, summoning the bartender to bring her another. “I did, actually. Or do. You are well aware of my feelings for him, Sirius. His marriage hasn’t changed that. It would have been nice to marry him. To be a wife, and have a home of my own.”  
  
“You haven’t exactly gotten a rotten deal out of it, have you? I mean, living the life of a kept woman?”  
  
“On _her_ dime, no less,” she agreed, smirking. “I suppose it has its perks.”  
  
“So what’s new with you?” she countered, taking a sip of her freshened beverage.  
  
“Absolutely nothing. Jamie doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore because he’s all married and boring and only has couple friends, now. When did everyone decide to pair up, anyway?” Sirius complained, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I know what you mean... I don’t exactly have any suitors... you know how it is. Lucius would hex them into next week if anyone so much as asked me to dinner-”  
  
Except me,” Sirius interrupted, smirking.  
  
“Except you,” she agreed. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, her touch soft as her hand grazed his jaw, stroking it momentarily before entwining itself in his shoulder-length raven locks.  
  
“So,” she whispered, her lips still pressed to his. “Your place or mine?”

* * *

Sirius woke with a start, staring blearily at the clock on the dresser across from his bed. 5 A.M. _Fuck_. Groaning, he threw his covers off of himself, pulling himself out of bed. He grabbed his jeans from the pile of clothing on the floor, where he and Evelyn had hastily tossed them aside upon arrival to his flat early that morning. He grabbed his tee shirt, not bothering to turn it right side out, slipping into his shoes and grabbing his wand off the nightstand. With any luck, he thought to himself, he would only be fifteen minutes late for the meeting.  
  
Surely enough, Sirius was the last to arrive to the Order HQ. He slipped into the room where the others had gathered, attempting to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Sinking into a chair between Remus and Fabian Prewett, he let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“Glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, Black,” Moody noted irritably, shooting him a disdainful look.  
  
Sirius remained silent, clenching his fists in anger. _It’s not like they let me do anything of significance, anyway. Who cares if I arrive on time or not?_  
  
The meeting had dragged on for what felt like forever, the room stiflingly hot. On several occasions, Sirius had felt himself drifting off, only to be jolted awake by Remus’ elbow jabbing him in the ribs. Once the meeting had adjourned, Sirius lingered around for a while, listening halfheartedly as James went on about some dinner party that had been attended by various couples from the Order. A party _he_ had not been invited to. Peter had barely taken the time to greet Sirius with a quick hello before rushing off. Remus had left abruptly as well, though not before taking the time to scold him sufficiently. “Are you kidding me? Showing up still drunk from the night before? Really, Sirius?” he had muttered, rolling his eyes as Sirius stumbled to make an excuse for his behavior.  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes, arms crossed. _What does he know?_ he thought miserably, frowning as James and Lily conversed with another couple they had seemingly become close with, the Longbottom’s. _What else do they expect me to do with my time? It’s not like I have a job or any bloody friends to spend time with. Not like they trust me to do anything of importance for the Order_. Sirius’ thoughts were interrupted by Moody clearing his throat, scrutinizing him.  
  
“Black, a word, please?” he asked, his tone clear that he was not asking.  
  
Sirius nodded, following Moody out of the meeting area, to the hall, which was now deserted.  
  
“Do you think that this war is a joke, boy?” Moody growled, wasting no time with pleasantries.  
  
“No, of course not,” Sirius replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  
“I don’t know how you can continue to ask us to allow you to participate in any of our missions, given your behavior,” Moody continued, frowning.  
  
“I’d be in auror training, _sir_ , if not for my father-”  
  
“So arrogant. With your piss-poor attitude and disgraceful behavior, I would reject you from the program, myself, boy. I don’t care if you scored the highest of your class on your NEWTS or were considered clever beyond your years because of all the hi jinks you and your little group of friends got up to while you were in school. This is a _war_ , Sirius. If you are not under constant vigilance, and don’t do exactly as you are told, people can get killed,” he interrupted, his eyes boring holes into Sirius’.  
  
“Look at yourself. You constantly show up for meetings late, looking disheveled. It’s obvious that you don’t care about this, don’t understand the significance of what we are doing here. You’re just like the rest of your lot, Black; an arrogant rich boy with more money than sense. You think everyone here isn’t aware of your playboy tendencies, Black? Showing up here, clothes rustled, reeking of sex? We’re all well aware of your indiscretions with that Slytherin girl of yours, and it would do you well to cut ties immediately. I’ve said it before and I will say it again; she can not be trusted. You need to start thinking with your head and not with your dick. That is, if you actually want to be a part of this, be of any real use to the Order.”  
  
Sirius stared ahead, willing himself to keep his expression blank, neutral. “Can I go now?” he asked politely, digging his fingernails into his palms, his anger threatening to reach a boiling point at any given moment.  
  
Moody waved his hand dismissively. “Go on, then. Get out of here.”

* * *

After a night of heavy drinking with Evelyn, Sirius woke to a splitting headache. He groaned, his eye twitching as he heard a relentless tapping on his bedroom window. “What do you want?” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed, one hand pressed to the side of his head, the other opening the window.  
  
A gray barn owl entered the room, shoving her leg out, impatiently. Fumbling with the knot, Sirius untied the scroll of parchment from her leg, glancing around the room for a bit of left out food. “Sorry, got nothing for you,” he muttered, wincing as the bird took a nip at his right ear. “Ugh, get out of here, then,” he shooed, shutting the window once the owl had retreated. He seated himself on the edge of his bed, struggling to focus his vision on the parchment as he unrolled it, to read. He sighed, tossing the note to the floor. _Dumbledore wants to meet with me. Immediately. Fuck,_ he thought miserably, squeezing his eyes shut. “Moody probably had a word with him. Probably wants me kicked out of the Order,” he muttered, lowering his torso down, so that he was lying flat on his back. “Fuck.”  
  
Sirius quickly showered, grateful that he had sent Evelyn on her way the night before, after a quick shag. Once dressed, he apparated to the Order HQ, his heart pounding in his chest. _Please don’t let them kick me out, please don’t let them kick me out_ , he thought nervously, nodding at the familiar faces he found scattered about the headquarters. At last, he found himself face to face with Dumbledore, who greeted him with a warm smile. “Ah, Sirius. So glad you’re here at last. I would like a word, ahem, in private, if you will.”  
  
Sirius nodded, following silently as Dumbledore led him up a flight of stairs, to the second floor. “There’s far more privacy up here,” he had explained, leading him into a small office.

* * *

“So,” Dumbledore began, hands folded. The pair had taken seats on opposite sides of a desk. Sirius felt a vague sense of deja vu, finding himself yet again on the opposite side of a desk with his former Headmaster. “I understand that you have expressed great frustration to Alastor about your role in the Order, thus far.”  
  
Sirius nodded, shrugging. “I thought... I’d be of more use, than what I’ve been allowed to do, thus far, sir.”  
  
“You were indeed one of the brightest of your year, Sirius. Easily one of the most brilliant minds I have encountered during my tenure at Hogwarts. Your NEWT scores were particularly impressive. Especially given that you seemed far more consumed with making mischief than studying,” Dumbledore continued, his bright blue eyes twinkling.  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Sirius replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
“It’s a pity, really. So much raw talent. You would have made an excellent auror, had you not been barred from the Ministry because of your family,” Dumbledore noted, eyeing Sirius sadly.  
  
“Moody doesn’t seem to think so,” Sirius scoffed, his lips twisted into a scowl.  
  
“While Alastor is an excellent auror, he doesn’t have much patience for anyone who doesn’t share his temperament,” Dumbledore replied, smiling slightly.  
  
“He told me that I’m too reckless, that I don’t care about the Order-”  
  
“And that you’re an arrogant rich boy, yes? Don’t look so surprised, Sirius. You of all people must know that not much gets by me, am I right?”  
  
Sirius nodded, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“I have a proposal for you, Sirius,” Dumbledore started, folding his hands yet again on the desk.  
  
“What?” Sirius asked, curious.  
  
“Given your skill set and other particular factors, I have a mission for you. Before you accept, I need you to understand that what I am asking of you is a very grave task. Once you accept, there is no backing down,” he began, choosing his words carefully.  
  
“What is it?” Sirius asked, anxious.  
  
“The mission is a very dangerous one, and highly classified, at that. If you were to accept this mission, you would have to sever all contact with your friends. That means James and Remus and Peter, too, Sirius,” Dumbledore continued, eyeing him sternly.  
  
“But.. But they’re in the Order, too. Why couldn’t they-”  
  
“Any connection with them could compromise the mission, Sirius. Before I go any further, are you still interested?” he interrupted, staring intently.  
  
“Yeah. I am. What... What’s the mission?” Sirius replied eagerly, gripping the armrests of his chair.  
  
“I would like to request you to reenter the pure-blooded social circle, reclaiming your place as heir to the Black family.”  
  
Sirius stared blankly, unsure whether what he had heard was correct.  
  
“Given your lineage, you could be of much use to the Order by infiltrating the pure-blooded, and by association, the Death Eater social circles,” Dumbledore explained, his eyes piercing Sirius’.  
  
“And what exactly do you want me to do? Spy on them?”  
  
“Well, yes. Gather intel. Earn their trust and secure yourself a position within their ranks. We need someone on the inside, Sirius. It is the only way I can see us winning this war.”  
  
“How... How the bloody hell do you expect me to manage that, sir?” Sirius sputtered, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve been disowned and disinherited. If I even tried to return home to Grimmauld Place, Mum would probably hex me to death.”  
  
Dumbledore smiled suddenly, a mischievous look in his eyes. “If I do so recall, you are somewhat involved with the lovely Evelyn Greengrass, are you not?” he asked, curiously.  
  
“Yeah...” Sirius agreed.  
  
“So, use Evelyn. A marriage to a pure-blooded Slytherin should do nicely to broker re-entrance into the fold, Sirius,” Dumbledore elaborated, in response to Sirius’ puzzled looks.  
  
Sirius sighed, staring down at the floor. “I... I don’t know if I could... I mean... Would I _really_ have to leave my friends?” he muttered, chewing nervously at his lower lip. _And my family_ , he thought miserably. _I’d have to return to my hated, dreadful family._  
  
“May I remind you, Sirius, that you have been consistently begging for a chance to prove yourself worthy of taking a more active role in the Order, have you not?”  
  
“Yes,” Sirius agreed, hesitantly.  
  
“This is an ideal opportunity to do so, wouldn’t you agree?” Dumbledore pressed.  
  
“Yeah... I... I’ll do it. I’ll do it.. Just... One thing. Please?”  
  
“Ah, terms. What is your request, Sirius?”  
  
“She doesn’t get hurt in this. Evelyn. Whatever it is that I have to do, you’ll protect her. Right?”  
  
Dumbledore nodded. “Of course.”  
  
“Okay, then. I’ll do it,” Sirius sighed, resigned.  
  
“Very well. Then you should begin immediately. I suggest you go and find Evelyn, and put the beginning stages of this mission into place by securing an affirmative marriage proposal,” Dumbledore noted, nodding.  
  
“Yes, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

“More tea?” Evelyn asked, the delicate sound of china clinking as she returned her cup to its saucer.  
  
“No thank you,” Sirius replied, taking a sip from his own cup. As he swallowed, he silently regretted not asking for something stronger.  
  
He had arrived at the Greengrass household unannounced, nervous at the prospect of asking Evelyn out properly. Mrs. Greengrass had answered the door, and had appeared quite pleased at the prospect of him calling on Evelyn, ushering him in quickly, insisting that he join them for tea. After half an hour of uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Greengrass, eyeing him like a hawk watching potential prey, had at last excused herself from the sitting room, leaving Sirius and Evelyn to their own devices.  
  
“So,” Evelyn noted, rising from her seat and walking over to the bar in the corner of the room, “I must say I’m surprised to see you, calling at this hour. You usually only come to call on me under the darkness of night,” she continued, pouring a clear liquid into a crystal-cut tumbler. She locked eyes with Sirius, grinning, before returning to her seat.  
  
“Gin,” she confided, before taking a sip. “I usually pour it into my tea to make tea time with my mum more tolerable. Your showing up unannounced interrupted my afternoon ritual,” she explained.  
  
Sirius nodded, standing abruptly. “Do you mind?” he questioned, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“By all means,” she affirmed, again bringing her glass to her lips.  
  
Sirius slowly walked towards the bar, feeling Evelyn’s eyes watching him as he shakily poured firewhiskey from a decanter into a crystal tumbler. He took a sip, surprised by how smoothly the liquor went down. _Expensive_ , he thought to himself, recalling his youth, nicking flask-fuls of his father’s stash. He returned to his seat, Evelyn eyeing him curiously.  
  
“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, Evelyn. I mean, pretty regularly for what, the past year or so?” Sirius began, following his question with a gulp of his drink.  
  
Evelyn nodded, taking a delicate sip of her own beverage, a quizzical look still etched on her face. “Yeah, I suppose we have...” she agreed.  
  
“I’ve been thinking that perhaps... Perhaps we should put some sort of official title on whatever it is we’ve been doing,” Sirius continued.  
  
Evelyn frowned, taking a deep sip of her drink. “You know Sirius, I recall you being the one who requested that it be a no-strings-attached arrangement when we first started getting together on a pretty regularly basis.”  
  
She took another sip of her drink, placing the glass down before continuing. “I suppose I’m just curious as to why the sudden change of heart. I mean, I don’t really fit in with your image, do I? You rejected our world.”  
  
Sirius sighed, draining his glass. “Evie... I’ve come to some realizations, the past few days. I mean, you’ve heard all about my friends, how they’re all too busy to even come visit me. You care for me more than any of my so-called friends do. They’ve basically cut me out of their lives, far too wrapped up in their careers and new ‘couple friends’ to pay me any mind,” he explained, rising again, and walking back to the bar.  
  
He refilled his glass, swirling the liquid, before taking another sip. “It’s just been making me think that perhaps I was a bit rash when I severed ties with my family.”  
  
Evelyn sighed, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Oh Siri... Come here,” she cooed, patting the space next to her on the love seat.   
  
Sirius obeyed, taking a seat beside her. He placed a hand on her knee, bringing his glass to his lips, drinking.  
  
“So you’re thinking about repairing your relationship with your family, going back?” she asked, a curious smile painted on her lips.  
  
Sirius shrugged, sighing deeply. “Yeah. I am. I’ve been considering returning home, asking to reclaim my place as heir to the family,” he conceded, draining his glass and placing it down on the coffee table set before them.  
  
“I’ve seen that going against the grain and rejecting everything that _they_ stand for has gotten me nowhere. Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting fate and accept my lot in life. I’m a _Black_ , you know? The creme de la creme of society. I’m the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Why fight it? This is who I am.”  
  
Evelyn coughed, tucking a strand of her white-blonde hair behind her ear. “I will admit, that I do have feelings for you, Sirius. There’s a reason I was so keen to see you regularly, despite everything with Lucius...” she explained, smiling slightly.  
  
“You can’t deny the attraction, Evie. Remember the Lestrange’s party, the summer of 1974? It was my first time... You’re electrifying, Evelyn,” Sirius noted, his hand inching further up her leg, nearing her thigh.   
  
“How could I forget... It was my first time, too,” Evelyn confided, smiling. “Well... I will admit that your company has been... nice. It’s been... Hard, trying to move on since Lucius.... I think that I would like it if we were to date, officially,” she finished, blushing slightly.  
  
“You know... this means that I will be able to show my face at social functions again, having a suitable partner to escort me to such events,” Evelyn noted, thoughtfully.  
  
“What, did Narcissa blacklist you, or something?” Sirius asked, teasingly.  
  
“No,” she retorted sharply, frowning. “It’s just... embarrassing, to be seen at such things, alone. Most girls my age that ran in those circles are married already, Sirius... and... obviously people have an idea that Lucius and I still see each other... I don’t like the unnecessary attention it draws, showing up to such things, alone.”  
  
“Ah,” Sirius replied, unsure of how to respond.   
  
“You know that I’m on the board for St. Mungo’s, right?” Evelyn asked, suddenly.  
  
“Yeah, I think you mentioned it,” Sirius agreed, standing to freshen his beverage. “Get you another?” he asked.  
  
Evelyn nodded, handing over her now-empty glass. “Well... We’re hosting a ball to raise money for the hospital and since I’m co-chairing the event, I thought that perhaps you could accompany me,” she continued, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, refilling both his and Evelyn’s drinks and returning to sit beside her. “I’d love to.”  
  
“It’d be an ideal opportunity for us to publicly announce our relationship,” Evelyn added, smirking slightly. “Everyone who is _anyone_ will be there.”  
  
“Perfect,” Sirius replied, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

Having secured the beginnings of a relationship with Evelyn, Sirius moved on to the next task in his mission: rekindling a relationship with his family. After a late evening out on the town, Evelyn on his arm, Sirius found himself back at his flat, nursing a hangover and struggling to write a letter to his brother, Regulus. Fearing the inevitable backlash that would happen were he to set foot in Grimmauld Place without warning, he had decided that his best course of action would be to attempt to get back in his parents good graces through his brother’s assistance. Frowning, Sirius crumpled the parchment he had been writing on, tossing it to the floor, amongst the other failed attempts at letters he had gone through that morning. He sipped on tea, willing his head to stop throbbing mercilessly. He and Evelyn had been out late into the night, celebrating their new-found relationship with countless bottles of champagne. And gin. Sirius recalled drinking copious amounts of gin, Evelyn’s poison of choice. Two cups of tea later, Sirius was satisfied with his letter. He owled it off to Regulus, hoping that his brother would not simply recognize his seal and toss the letter aside. Or worse, burn it. Still, knowing he had nothing left to do but await a response, he set off to shower.  
  
Emerging from his tiny bathroom, Sirius, freshly showered, found an owl waiting in the kitchen, pecking at an abandoned slice of toast. Unable to contain his excitement, he tore the letter open, scanning the parchment quickly, still clad in only a towel. Reg’s letter had been short and to the point; he agreed to meeting with Sirius to talk, and he would meet him at the Hog’s Head that evening at seven. Sirius smiled, placing the parchment down on his kitchen table, shooing the owl away. He was glad he had suggested meeting there; Hogsmeade still was neutral ground for the brothers. He had figured it would be best to keep their initial meeting out of London. Further still, he felt the Hog’s Head would be a better choice over the Three Broomsticks, as it would provide the ideal locale to avoid prying eyes from seeing their interaction.

* * *

At seven sharp, Sirius watched Regulus enter the small, dingy pub, his nose wrinkled in distaste. Sirius smirked, watching as his brother ordered a drink at the bar. His younger brother looked a lot like Sirius, albeit not nearly as handsome. At least, in Sirius’ opinion. He took a sip of his own drink, wincing slightly. The firewhiskey available at the Hog’s Head was hardly top-shelf, a far cry from the libations served in the Greengrass household. Sirius nodded in acknowledgment as Regulus approached him, rapping his fingers lightly on the tabletop.  
  
“Sirius,” his brother greeted him, taking a seat across from him.   
  
“Reg,” Sirius replied, attempting to smile, but feeling it was forced, awkward. “So you’re done with school, yeah?”  
  
“Indeed,” Regulus replied dryly. “In case you have forgotten, I was a year behind you in school, so yes, I finished the spring after you.”  
  
“Have you followed in father’s footsteps, taking a post at the Ministry?” Sirius asked, unsure of what else to say, settling to make small talk.  
  
“I believe you are aware that I have tasks of far more significance that take up my time, Sirius,” Regulus noted, rolling his eyes.  
  
Sirius glanced down at his brother’s left arm, wincing as he saw the hint of black ink on his inner forearm. _The dark mark_ , he thought to himself, sighing internally. He had been aware that his brother had become a death eater, had first seen the mark on his arm while they had both still been at school, passing in the halls. At the time, Sirius had been sickened, the thought of his baby brother’s innocence being taken, far too much for him to bear. _He was recruiting children_ , he thought, staring down into his firewhiskey, lost in his own thoughts. _How did he bloody manage to accomplish all he has with bloody child soldiers?_  
  
“As fascinating as it is to watch you dwell in your own madness, _brother_ , I assume you asked me to meet you for a reason?” Regulus asked, irritation in his tone.   
  
Sirius bit his lip, considering. “Regulus,” he began, taking a long swig of his drink for courage. “I have been thinking. I have a lot of free time to think, as I am barred from finding any work at the Ministry, as I’m sure you know.”  
  
“Indeed. And while you may be slumming it amongst your blood-traitor friends, I daresay you’re too proud to take work doing something as _common_ as working in a shop,” Regulus noted, smirking.   
  
Sirius laughed, hearing his mother’s voice coming from Regulus’ mouth; Reg had said _common_ the way his mother said _poor_. Admittedly, Regulus had a point; Sirius, though disinherited from the vast fortune owed to him as the eldest Black son, still had been left a considerable sum by his Uncle Alphard, and _had_ in fact considered working in a shop to be beneath him. _I suppose I really am a Black_ , he thought wryly.  
  
“I may have made a mistake running away from home when I was sixteen, Reg,” Sirius said finally, finding it easier to spit it out than to drag the ordeal out longer than necessary.  
  
“Obviously, Sirius,” Regulus retorted haughtily, laughing. “It was foolish to throw away everything you could have had, for a rag-tag group of blood-traitors. You were the _sole_ heir of the entire Black family fortune, Sirius, I mean, honestly,” he continued, shaking his head contemptuously. “I never could understand why you would choose them over us. Over every privilege afforded to you by being who you are. Who you _were_ , I suppose.”  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, rage coursing through his veins. “I’ve been seeing someone for quite a while now,” he said instead, forcing himself to let his brother’s words go, changing the topic.  
  
“I wasn’t aware that Sirius Black saw _anyone_ more than once,” Regulus noted, an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Someone from the old crowd, actually. I dunno if you’d remember her, Reg. She was two years ahead of me in school,” Sirius continued, keeping his tone casual.  
  
“If she’s part of the old crowd, then I’m sure the name is familiar, Sirius,” Regulus replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like this world is crawling with pure-blooded families, anymore.”  
  
“Well, anyway,” Sirius said calmly, taking a sip of his drink, draining the glass, “Evelyn and I have decided to begin dating, officially.”  
  
Regulus stared at his older brother a moment, looking surprised, but remained silent, instead nodding for Sirius to continue.  
  
“We’re planning on making an official announcement to the public that we are dating exclusively at St. Mungo’s charity ball. She’s co-chair of the event, actually,” Sirius noted, motioning to the barman to bring him another firewhiskey.  
  
“Well done, then, Sirius. Snagging a catch like Evelyn Greengrass... that’s certainly nothing to scoff at,” Regulus replied, offering his brother the first genuine smile Sirius had received from him in ages.   
  
The barman slammed Sirius’ freshened beverage on the table, before turning on his heel.  
  
Sirius took a long sip, observing his brother. Regulus was watching him, a somewhat troubled look in his eyes.  
  
“You know,” Regulus noted, taking a sip of his own drink. “It’s quite a bold move, dating Evelyn. Most blokes your age are too afraid of slighting Lucius to so much as even approach her.”  
  
Sirius laughed, shrugging off the comment. “Reg, I’ve been shagging her since long before Lucius ever did.”  
  
Regulus’ eyebrows rose, surprised by this tidbit. “I do recall the two of you wandering off quite often during parties, now that I think about it,” he muttered, sipping his drink.  
  
“Well, it’s high time that you came around, Sirius. I mean really, the girls you fooled around with at school...” Regulus tsked, shaking his head. “It’s about time you began dating someone worthy of your birthright.”  
  
He paused a moment, a hopeful expression on his face. “Would it bother you any if I were to mention to Mum that you are dating Evelyn?”  
  
Sirius, nodded, grinning. “Of course. I’m sure the old bat will drop dead to hear that I’ve _finally_ started seeing a respectable girl.”  
  
Regulus glanced at his wristwatch, noting the time. “I should really get going,” he said finally, standing.  
  
Sirius rose from his seat as well, nodding in agreement. “I don’t want to keep you,” he replied, smiling slightly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Reg.”  
  
The pair made their way through the pub, pausing as they reached the door. “You should consider coming home some time, to see Mum and Dad. Given your change of heart, perhaps they may see fit to reinstate your inheritance,” Regulus noted, pausing for a moment before embracing his brother.   
  
Touched by his brother’s sudden warmth towards him, Sirius hugged back, clapping his younger brother on the back. “Welcome back to the family, Siri.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius frowned at his reflection in the mirror, as he hurried to dry his hair. He muttered the incantation to make the warm air jetting out from his wand blow faster, rolling his eyes, impatiently. For some unknown reason, the Order was meeting at six in the evening, the very night of the St. Mungo’s ball. As he would have no time to get ready after the meeting, Sirius had no choice but to shower beforehand. Satisfied that his hair was mostly dry, he turned his attention to dressing. Evelyn had purchased him a new set of dress robes, which had arrived earlier that day. He stared down at the robes, laid out on his bed. Sirius fingered the fabric delicately, appreciating the smooth feeling of silk between his fingers. _Probably cost a small fortune_ , he thought wryly, shaking his head. _Not that I wouldn’t have done the same_.  
  
Sirius was notorious for his impulsive, and oftentimes extravagant purchases. The summer before, he had purchased an imported motorbike off of a muggle bloke he had passed on the streets of London. He had paid cash, requiring Lily’s assistance with handling muggle money. Lily had seemed shocked by his wanton spending, which Sirius had found confusing. After all, money had never been of any great significance to him, growing up. He found it difficult to grasp, the concept of something being ‘expensive.’ Still, he had been quite glad he had purchased the bike, stopping to look out his bedroom window. He looked down at the street, smiling fondly at the bike, parked up in front of his building. It had taken quite some time and a lot of research, but Sirius had managed to charm the bike to fly. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the matter of getting dressed. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a tee shirt. It would be easier to dress casually for the meeting, then return home to change, he decided. Arriving to the meeting in dress robes would certainly draw unnecessary attention to himself.   
  
Having arrived at headquarters a bit early, Sirius slipped into the meeting room, foregoing any idle chitchat with fellow members. He took a seat in between the Prewett brothers, arms folded across his chest. As other members filed in, Sirius stared down at his wristwatch, grinding his teeth. It was already a quarter past, _could they please hurry things up?_ he thought miserably. He stared straight ahead as James and Lily walked by, avoiding making eye contact. After what felt like forever, the meeting came to a start. Sirius sat stiffly, staring ahead, barely hearing a word that was said. He was distracted, planning how exactly he could swing going home to change, arriving to pick up Evelyn, and get them to the event, on time. He frowned, nearly jumping out of his chair when he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. “What?” he muttered, turning his head.  
  
“What’s with you, mate?” Remus whispered, a perplexed look on his face. “We always sit together during meetings.”  
  
“I don’t know, just distracted, I guess,” Sirius shrugged, turning back around.  
  
As Moody droned on, Sirius began tapping his foot impatiently, eyes glued to his watch. _It’s nearly seven, now. We need to be there by eight... Merlin, Evelyn is going to kill me_ , he thought anxiously.  
  
Finally, the meeting drew to a close. Sirius stood quickly, hoping to make a beeline for the exit before anyone stopped him to make idle chit-chat. However, as he began to head towards the hallway, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. Groaning internally, he paused, careful to keep his expression neutral as he turned around.  
  
“Oi, Sirius, come here a minute!” James called out, his boisterous voice ringing throughout the cramped meeting room.  
  
Sirius glanced at his watch, pausing a moment, before making his way towards James, who had been joined by Pete and Remus. “Lo,” he greeted the group, nodding in acknowledgment towards each of his fellow Marauders.   
  
“Lily’s given me the night off, lads! I was thinking since it’s Saturday night, the four of us could hit the pub, have a boy’s night, eh?” James noted gleefully, a smile plastered to his face.  
  
Remus and Pete immediately began voicing their agreement, while Sirius stood silently, frowning. “I can’t,” he replied simply, again glancing down at his watch. It was now verging on 7:30. _Evie is going to be furious._  
  
“Why, got a hot date lined up?” Pete joked, elbowing Sirius in the ribs.  
  
Sirius jerked away, arms crossed against his chest. “Actually, I’m going to the St. Mungo’s benefit with Evelyn, tonight,” he elaborated, icily.   
  
James and Remus exchanged looks, smirking. “Oh man, how’d you get roped into that one, mate? You _hate_ high society nonsense,” James queried, shaking his head.  
  
“I thought you said she was just a casual shag,” Remus added.  
  
“Evelyn and I are dating, as a matter of fact,” Sirius replied coldly, frowning. _How much more of this am I going to have to stand through?_ he thought, annoyed. _As if I’m not already late_.  
  
James’ jaw dropped, shocked by this announcement. “When were you going to tell us?” he asked, the hurt apparent in his tone.  
  
“Yeah, really, Pads... I thought we told each other everything, Marauders and all,” Pete interjected, his arms hanging limply at his sides.  
  
“It’s not like you blokes care about what’s going on in my life, anyway. So I didn’t bother bringing it up,” Sirius replied huffily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to be going. Evelyn is waiting.”  
  
Not bothering to wait to hear a response from his friends, Sirius turned on his heel, quickly storming out of the room.  
  
He arrived back at his flat moments later, to the sight of Evelyn pacing about his living room. “It’s about time you showed up,” she snapped angrily, draining the contents of the glass in her hand.  
  
“Sorry, I got tied up... I’ll go get changed. We’ll still make it on time, Evie,” Sirius stammered, apologetic. “Have another drink, I’ll only be a second.”  
  
He excused himself to the bedroom, where he quickly changed into his dress robes. As he emerged back into the living room, he took a moment to fully appreciate Evelyn’s appearance. While always a striking girl, even when dressed down, tonight she looked particularly alluring; she had chosen an emerald green silk gown with a plunging neckline, which showcased her spectacular figure. Her long pale blonde hair had been swept up into an elegant chignon, held in place with a diamond and emerald encrusted comb. “You look wonderful, Evie,” Sirius told her, offering her his arm.   
  
Evelyn cracked a smile, apparently relaxed. “Here, let me fix your tie,” she said softly, reaching up and untying his bow tie.   
  
Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she leaned up, pecking him on the lips. “You clean up well, Black,” she noted, smirking. “I forgot how handsome you look, all dressed up.”  
  
“Shall we be going?” Sirius asked, smiling at her compliment.  
  
“Indeed.”

* * *

Evelyn and the rest of the board had rented out the grand ballroom of a muggle hotel, The Ritz, for the St. Mungo’s gala. Naturally, appropriate precautions had been taken, such as setting charms to ward muggles from stumbling into their gathering. A floo connection had also been arranged, allowing guests to safely arrive directly into the ballroom, rather than garnering unnecessary attention by apparating into the hotel lobby. Since their arrival, Sirius had barely said a word. He had allowed himself to be towed around, arm in arm, by Evelyn, as she worked the room, thanking guests for coming. Sirius had initially felt uncomfortable, being thrown into the spotlight, but as word circulated amongst guests that he, Sirius Black, was dating Evelyn Greengrass, he began to feel more at ease. As Evelyn chattered away with the women about dresses and other feminine matters, Sirius joked with their husbands and dates, gratefully taking a flute of champagne when a waiter passed by with a tray. After working their way through a throng of guests, smiling and greeting them and thanking them for their generous contributions, Sirius was in dire need of a stronger drink.  
  
“Let’s go get another drink. I think dinner is about to be served, and we still need to find our seats,” Evelyn said softly, noting Sirius’ empty glass.  
  
Together, the pair ordered another drink, Sirius switching to his preferred firewhiskey and Evelyn requesting a glass of gin, neat.  
  
“You’re bizarre, you know that?” Sirius laughed, as the pair made their way to the adjoined room, where dinner was to be served.  
  
“Why’s that, Siri?”  
  
“You are quite likely the only person I have ever encountered who drinks gin neat.”  
  
“What can I say? It’s an acquired taste.”  
  
As Evelyn was co-chairing the evening’s event, she and Sirius had been seated with three other couples; some of the highest contributing donors to the foundation. Dutifully, Sirius pulled out Evelyn’s chair, waiting for her to be seated before taking a seat beside her. Shortly after, they were joined by the three couples: Sirius’ Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius; Mr. and Mrs. Nott, friends of Sirius’ parents; and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Sirius winced as he felt Evelyn’s sharp fingernails dig into his thigh, hidden from view under the table. Sirius remained silent as Evelyn quickly regained her composure, playing the role of gracious hostess as she greeted the three couples at their table, thanking them for their generosity to such a noble cause. As Evelyn prattled on to his aunt and uncle about the new long-term residence ward, Sirius avoided making eye contact with his cousin Narcissa, who was shooting daggers at him.  
  
“Sirius,” Lucretia said suddenly, snapping Sirius’ mind to full attention.   
  
“How lovely to see you again, Aunt Lucretia,” Sirius replied, taking a sip from his drink to steady his shaking hands.   
  
“Sirius ever so graciously agreed to accompany me tonight,” Evelyn noted, interjecting herself into what she correctly read to be an increasingly tense situation.  
  
“We saw this evening as good a time as any to make our relationship public,” Sirius quipped, smiling warmly at Evelyn.   
  
Sirius watched with sick satisfaction as he saw Lucius’ face blanched in shock, pressing his lips together into a sneer.  
  
“Cissy, where is lovely Bella this evening? I could have sworn I saw name placards for her and Rodolphus when we arrived,” Sirius said calmly, addressing his cousin.  
  
“She accompanied her husband on a trip to Paris, for business,” Narcissa quipped, her voice dripping with acid.  
  
“What a devoted wife she must be, accompanying her husband abroad... I suppose you accompany Lucius on his business trips, as well?” Sirius asked, feeling Evelyn’s spiked heel dig into his foot the moment the question left his lips.  
  
Narcissa paled, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I trust my husband, and would not want to distract him from his work while he is away on business,” she retorted, shooting Evelyn’s deathly glares.  
  
“How long have you been seeing one another?” Lucius asked, his gaze focused on Evelyn.  
  
“We’ve been seeing each other regularly for nearly a year and a half now, I believe,” she replied politely, taking a dainty sip of her drink. “Though we’ve only recently decided to make our relationship public.”  
  
“A Black-Greengrass union would make a fine addition to the Black family lineage, wouldn’t you agree, Ignatius?” Lucretia asked, turning to her husband.  
  
Her husband nodded in agreement, while Lucretia offered Sirius a rare smile. “Perhaps there is hope to carry on the Noble House of Black, after all,” she noted, granting the couple an approving look.  
  
As dinner was served, Sirius ate slowly, watching as Evelyn continually jumped out of her seat, glass of gin in hand, as she worked the room, greeting various guests. Once she was out of earshot, he noticed Lucius and Narcissa exchanging furtive whispers. As Evelyn returned to her seat, the whispers stopped, the Malfoy couple turning their attention to their meals. Following dinner, Sirius and Evelyn exited the dining area, returning to the ballroom for dancing. The pair danced a waltz, before Evelyn asked him to fetch them both drinks.

* * *

Evelyn stood by the fireplaces, smoking a cigarette, as she waited for Sirius to return from fetching them beverages. As she exhaled a plume of smoke, she caught glance of a furious blonde approaching her.  
  
“Evelyn Greengrass,” Narcissa sneered, hands on hips, coming to a halt before her.  
  
“Narcissa,” Evelyn hissed, scowling.  
  
“I see you’ve lowered yourself to the point that even dregs of society, like my disowned cousin seem appealing to you. How desperate. No one else will have you, so a blood-traitor will do, eh?” Narcissa asked, her words sharp.  
  
“At least I didn’t have to pay for my husband, Cissy,” Evelyn retorted, stamping out her half-smoked cigarette.  
  
Narcissa paled for a moment, her right hand shaking, as she took a step closer to her.  
  
“You’re vile. I know you’re sleeping with my husband. You bitch, I ought to-”  
  
“Narcissa!” Sirius said sharply, approaching the pair, drinks in hand.  
  
Narcissa quickly spun around, turning her fury onto Sirius.  
  
“What are you even doing here, _Sirius_? You’ve been disowned. You left our family,” she replied, glaring.   
  
“And yet here I am, returned to my rightful place in society. I would watch your tongue, _Cissy_. After all, you squandered most of your inheritance wooing your husband, didn’t you? I still have mine. A far greater sum than you received, I’m sure, as the first-born son and heir to the Black fortune,” Sirius smirked, glaring at his cousin.  
  
“And if you so much as _threaten_ my future wife, you _will_ be sorry. I’ll slit your throat myself, gladly,” he continued, offering Narcissa a patronizing smile.  
  
Narcissa glanced over Sirius’ shoulder, her face paling, before quickly recomposing herself. “How nice to have you back, Cousin Siri,” she noted, offering him a forced smile before brushing past him.

* * *

Sirius turned, curious as to what Narcissa had silently reacted to. He felt a cold wave of shock course through his veins as he caught sight of his parents, standing within earshot, observing him. Evelyn followed his gaze, realization dawning on her face. She nudged him, beginning to stride towards the couple, only to have Sirius pull her back, his grip tight on her left wrist.  
  
“Evelyn, I don't-”  
  
“We _have_ to go and say our hello’s, Sirius. Your father has always been very generous with the hospital... And besides. Now’s your chance to make amends, and reclaim what is rightfully yours,” Evelyn interrupted, her words sharp despite the grin that remained plastered on her face.   
  
Sighing, Sirius matched his pace with hers, draining his glass and exchanging the empty one for another as they passed another waiter.  
  
“Mr. And Mrs. Black, it’s lovely to see you again,” Evelyn greeted the pair, offering the pair a flash of her million watt smile.  
  
“Sirius,” Walburga said suddenly, her gazed focused on him.  
  
“Mother. Father,” Sirius replied, nodding curtly at them both.  
  
“I’m sure you remember Evelyn Greengrass, she’s co-chairing tonight’s event. She’s my girlfriend,” he continued, taking Evelyn’s pointed stares as an indication to introduce her as such.  
  
“Yes, of course,” Walburga noted politely, offering Evelyn a small smile. “Regulus mentioned that Sirius was seeing someone. It’s lovely to see you again, dear. On my son’s arm, no less.”  
  
Sirius stared down into his half-filled tumbler, attempting to ignore his father’s gaze as he gave an approving nod in Evelyn’s direction.  
  
“We really should keep moving, more guests to greet and whatnot,” Sirius said suddenly, grabbing Evelyn’s arm.  
  
“Of course. It was lovely seeing you again, Evelyn. Sirius,” Mrs. Black replied, shooting Sirius an authoritative glance.  
  
“Yes, mother?” he asked, sighing internally as he faced the inevitable.  
  
Evelyn paused, waiting.  
  
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a moment, love,” Sirius told her, waving her off.  
  
Once Evelyn was a safe distance away, Sirius nodded towards his mother, struggling to keep his expression neutral.  
  
“Yes, mother?” he continued, waiting expectantly.  
  
“I see you have come to your senses,” Walburga said coolly, sipping her champagne.  
  
“I suppose I have,” Sirius agreed, forcing a smile.  
  
“Evelyn Greengrass. At last, a young lady worthy of you. We are pleased to see you have chosen a companion who’s breeding matches your own, at long last,” she continued, offering Sirius a smile.  
  
“How long have the two of you been dating?” Orion asked, at last breaking his silence.  
  
“Exclusively, it’s rather new. We planned on making our relationship public tonight. Saw the event as fitting for it,” Sirius replied, sipping on his drink. _I’ll need something stronger, after this_ , he thought miserably, eyeing the bar across the room longingly.  
  
“We couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Narcissa,” his mother noted, sipping her champagne. “Regulus, of course, mentioned your intentions of returning to our family.”  
  
“I admit that perhaps it was a mistake to sever ties. I have seen the error of my ways,” Sirius retorted, through gritted teeth. He gripped his tumbler harder, barely able to stand forcing such words to spill forth from his mouth. _Especially to them_ , he thought miserably.  
  
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to stop by tomorrow afternoon, for tea?” Walburga asked.  
  
“Okay. I really should get going, Evie will be right cross with me if I don’t join her,” Sirius replied, offering his parents a quick nod before hurrying off.  
  
Spotting Evelyn, he caught her eye, before heading towards the bar. He quickly procured two tumblers of gin, neat, returning to Evelyn’s side. “For you,” he smiled, offering her a drink.  
  
“So thoughtful,” Evelyn cooed, beaming. “Mr. And Mrs. Yaxley, this is my boyfriend, Sirius Black,” she continued, introducing him.   
  
Once hands had been shaken and pleasantries exchanged, the pair set off towards a deserted section of the ballroom, relieved of their greeting duties for the time being.   
  
So?” Evelyn asked impatiently, swirling the contents of her drink.  
  
“They seem quite pleased, I think,” Sirius shrugged, draining his glass. Speaking with his parents had put him on edge; he would have to get very drunk to stomach the rest of the evening.  
  
“Are you alright?” she asked suddenly, a concerned look on her face. “You seem distraught.”  
  
“She asked that we join her for afternoon tea, tomorrow,” Sirius replied, shrugging. “I’m fine.”  
  
Sirius drained his glass, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Let’s get another drink, shall we?”


	4. Chapter 4

Sirius woke to a pounding headache, sunlight streaming in from his windows. He groaned, squinting from the harsh rays of light filtering into the room, as he dragged himself out of bed. Still squinting, he pulled the curtains shut, knocking his shin against his bureau in the process. “Fuck,” he shouted, instinctively bending over to tend to his injury.  
  
“Mmm... What’s going on?” Evelyn muttered, still buried under the covers in bed.  
  
Sirius ignored her, his mouth too dry to even attempt to get another word out. _How much did we drink last night?_ he thought to himself, frowning. He remembered leaving the ball, Evelyn pestering him to keep the party going. _I suppose we went to the Leaky Cauldron, to toss a few back before settling in for the night._ Again, he frowned. He had absolutely no idea, for certain. He had blacked out, the night before. He tensed up as he felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder.  
  
“What?” he muttered, turning his head.  
  
“Here... for your head,” Evelyn offered, thrusting a goblet into his hands.   
  
Sirius smiled gratefully, draining the contents. _Hangover potion. Of course, she’s an expert on brewing them... She must keep a supply of them readily on hand. Thank merlin, I think I’m fresh out of them._ “How late were we out last night?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Aguamenti,” he muttered, refilling his goblet with water. He smirked as he took a sip, the cool liquid relieving his dry, aching throat.   
  
“Oh, we turned in for the night around five. We left the pub around three, but we had a few rounds of drinks after we got home,” Evelyn noted, taking a sip from a chipped coffee mug she had found in Sirius’ sparse kitchen. “I made tea if you want a cuppa,” she offered, gesturing towards her cup.  
  
“Oh, so you’re not just drinking gin out of it,” Sirius laughed, shaking his head.  
  
“Oh, piss off, Siri,” Evelyn smirked, grinning. “I don’t need to get drunk to stand your company.”  
  
“You might change your mind about that this afternoon,” Sirius muttered, rising to his feet.   
  
He wandered down the hall to the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of tea. He glanced at the counter, in search of sugar. To his disappointment, it appeared he was all out. Frowning, he reached for the jar of honey sitting beside a sole box of tea; it would have to suffice. As he made his way back to the bedroom, he found Evelyn had relocated to the sitting room, lounging on his sofa. He took a seat in the armchair across from her, taking a sip of his tea. He winced, finding the taste to be stronger than he usually preferred.  
  
“Sorry if it’s a bit strong... I usually drink coffee in the morning,” Evelyn apologized, smiling.   
  
“It’s fine, Evie. Just wish I hadn’t run out of sugar... I suppose I need to go shopping.”  
  
Evelyn smirked, shaking her head. “I admit, it is rather apparent that a young bachelor lives here,” she noted, draining the contents of her mug. “I suppose taking one of the many tea sets from your family wasn’t high on your list of priorities when you left, eh?”  
  
“I was more concerned with securing a fine set of bar-ware,” Sirius retorted.   
  
“Naturally,” Evelyn smirked, her blue eyes twinkling. “Goblin-crafted crystal, I imagine?”  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, taking a large gulp of his tea.  
  
“So we’re having tea with your mum this afternoon?” Evelyn asked, crossing one slim leg over the other.  
  
“Unfortunately,” Sirius sighed, staring down into his mug. He swirled the dregs remaining, half-tempted to attempt to read the tea leaves remaining. _Not that I did all that well in Divination, the one year I took it. There’s probably a Grim in my leaves_ , he thought miserably.  
  
“You sound so thrilled,” Evelyn said shortly, frowning. “I thought you _wanted_ to return to your family, to what is rightfully yours.”  
  
“I do,” Sirius snapped, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”  
  
Evelyn remained silent, watching him, expectantly.  
  
“My mother has a tendency to take control of situations, of other people’s lives. If she were made privy to our relationship, I’m worried that she may insist that we move things along,” he said finally, sighing heavily.   
  
“I mean, given the times we live in, I think she may insist on a quick engagement followed by marriage shortly after,” he elaborated.  
  
Evelyn nodded, apparently unfazed by this announcement.  
  
“You don’t... think that rushing into things would be... you’d be okay with that?” Sirius asked, his tone a mixture of shock and hope.   
  
“She’s traditional... my mum would be pleased, I think. After all, Sirius, we’ve known each other our entire lives. We’ve been lovers on and off for years, now. We’re compatible and a good match for one another. Besides, I’m not getting any younger. Most of my schoolmates are long wed, already,” Evelyn replied, smiling serenely at him.  
  
“So you wouldn’t be opposed to-”  
  
“I would love to be your wife, Sirius Black.”

* * *

The pair apparated to Grimmauld Place shortly after four, freshly showered and dressed for the occasion. Sirius had dressed in a neat black set of robes, while Evelyn had selected a black raw silk cocktail dress with a keyhole neckline. Sirius strode purposefully towards the front door, knocking twice on the ancient wood door.   
  
Sirius struggled to keep his expression neutral as Kreacher, one of the family’s house elves, answered the door.  
  
“Young Master Black has returned home,” the elf squeaked, eyeing Sirius suspiciously. “I must go tell my Mistress.”  
  
Sirius watched as the house elf scurried off, leaving the front door swung open. Sighing, the pair entered the foyer, closing the door behind them. Sirius inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the memories swarmed upon him, entering his childhood home. He felt his hands shaking, adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he debated the pros and cons of turning around and fleeing the current situation altogether, he felt Evelyn’s hand entwine with his own. He felt his heart rate slow to a normal rhythm as Evelyn offered him a soothing smile. “Don’t be nervous, you’re fine. _We’re_ fine,” she told him, squeezing his hand encouragingly.  
  
Kreacher returned to the foyer, shooting Sirius a disdainful look. “My Mistress and Master Black request your presence in the parlor,” he squeaked, before turning on his heel and scurrying off.  
  
Shrugging, Sirius led the way down the hall, towards the parlor. _It must be just us, then,_ he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. _If there were more guests, she would have held tea in the dining room._ Again, he felt a surge of confidence as Evelyn squeezed his hand.  
  
“Mother, Father,” Sirius said evenly, announcing their presence to his parents.  
  
“Sirius. Evelyn. Thank you for joining us,” Walburga replied, her steel gray eyes watching the pair carefully.   
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, motioning for Evelyn to sit.  
  
While Evelyn busied herself smoothing down the skirt of her dress, Sirius poured two cups of tea, dragging out the process as long as possible. After dumping a healthy spoonful of sugar into his own cup, he took a seat beside Evelyn on the love-seat, sitting opposite his parents. He placed Evelyn’s cup onto the coffee table before them, electing to keep his own, saucer and all, in his hands. The room remained silent for some time, save for the delicate clink of china, as cups were returned to their saucers. Unable to bear the silence, Evelyn cleared her throat. “Thank you again, Mr. and Mrs. Black, for attending last night’s event,” she began, taking a prim sip of her tea.  
  
Sirius heard the familiar _clink_ of china on china and Evelyn returned her cup to saucer.  
  
“Of course, dear,” Walburga replied, taking a sip from her own cup.  
  
Again, the _clink_ of cup returning to saucer.  
  
“Have you read this morning’s Prophet?” Orion asked, speaking for the first time since the couple’s arrival.  
  
Sirius frowned, turning to Evelyn, who wore a similarly perplexed expression. “No, why?” he asked.  
  
“Apparently there’s been another mass killing of muggles. Two dozen of them killed in Essex,” Walburga replied, chiming into the conversation.   
  
Sirius felt his jaw clench, struggling to keep his temper at bay. _The way she said it, so calmly. She doesn’t care. She’s probably happy they’re dead. Probably wishes it had been her son’s hand they’d fallen by._ He gritted his teeth, jerking his head forward as if to nod, silently indicating for either her or his father to elaborate.   
  
“They were struck dead, right in the middle of the street,” Orion noted grimly, his face stoic, unreadable.  
  
“It was... Voldemort’s people, I suppose?” Evelyn queried, rising from her seat.  
  
Sirius watched as she poured herself another cup of tea, smirking in amusement as she stealthily removed a flask from her handbag, carefully tipping a healthy amount into her tea cup.  
  
“Apparently so,” Orion affirmed, handing Sirius a folded up copy of the Daily Prophet.  
  
Evelyn, having rejoined him on the love-seat, peered over, examining the front page; surely enough, there was a photograph, the Dark Mark appearing in the sky over the town where the killing had taken place. Sirius scowled, feeling his hands shake in rage. Reeling in his temper, he folded the paper back up, placing it down onto the coffee table.  
  
“They seem to be getting bolder,” Sirius noted, the words burning like acid as he forced them out of his mouth. “Next thing we know, they’ll be killing in broad daylight.”  
  
“I can’t say I agree with their means, but it is high time someone take a stand against what our society is quickly becoming,” Orion noted, his words sharp, dangerous.  
  
Evelyn took a gulp of her drink, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“The Ministry’s full of them, you know. Mud-bloods. It’s disgusting. They have no business governing our affairs,” Walburga interjected icily.  
  
“The blood-traitors aren’t much better. A disgrace to our kind, really,” Orion noted, taking a sip of his tea.  
  
Sirius took a sip from his own cup, in an attempt to mask the disgust and outrage he was certain would have emanated from his expression, had he not.   
  
“The next thing you know, they’ll be electing one of them Minister of Magic. Honestly, it’s right rubbish. _We_ are the ones who should be in control. After all, it’s _our_ world. We have graciously allowed entry to _them_ , shouldn’t that be enough?” Evelyn questioned, draining the contents of her cup. Sirius smelt the faintest hint of juniper on her breath.   
  
Walburga smiled, her gaze falling on Sirius. She stared, silently questioning him.  
  
“The time has come for the pure-blooded to band together and reclaim what is rightfully ours,” Sirius asserted, his mouth tasting of copper, from biting his inner cheek until he bled.  
  
Orion and Walburga nodded approvingly, satisfied with his response.  
  
“We will have to have your parents over, Evelyn. I’m sure they will be likewise pleased with the eminent Black-Greengrass union,” Walburga said calmly, addressing Evelyn.  
  
“We haven’t-”  
  
“Of course, we will have to have an engagement party, won’t we, Orion?” Walburga interrupted, turning to her husband.  
  
“Of course,” he affirmed, nodding in agreement.  
  
“I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind if we were to host the engagement party, would they?” Walburga asked, offering Evelyn a warm smile.  
  
However, Sirius noted, her eyes did not match her expression; rather, it was quite apparent that she dared Evelyn to oppose.  
  
“No, of course not,” Evelyn agreed, smoothing out her dress. “Sirius hasn’t proposed yet, though.”  
  
“KREACHER!” Walburga shouted, turning to face the entrance to the room.  
  
The house elf hurried to her side, looking up expectantly at her. “Yes, my Mistress?” he croaked.  
  
Sirius watched as Walburga spoke quietly to the house elf, instructing him to fetch her something. The house elf nodded, before disappearing with a sudden _pop_.  
  
“Given these troubled times, I hardly see a point in waiting,” Walburga noted, offering Evelyn a delayed response.  
  
Sirius nodded dully, staring down at his feet.  
  
“Really, Sirius, stop slouching,” she muttered, clicking her tongue in disgust.  
  
“Sorry, mum,” he muttered, sitting up straight.   
  
A moment later, Kreacher returned, a black velvet box in hand. He handed it to Walburga, standing beside her, observing.  
  
“Sirius,” she began, her gray eyes locking with his own. “As the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, it would only be fit to bestow upon you one of our family’s finest heirlooms with which to request your future bride for her hand in marriage,” she continued, gesturing for Sirius to stand.  
  
Shakily, he stood, striding over to his mother’s side. “You don’t mean?” he asked, silently questioning his mother as she placed the box in his hands.   
  
“All has been forgiven, Sirius,” she replied, smiling.  
  
With shaky hands, Sirius unclasped the box, staring down at it’s contents. He took a step back towards Evelyn, eyeing her nervously. “Evelyn,” he started, wetting his lips. “Will you marry me?” he asked, thrusting the ring towards her.  
  
Evelyn gasped, gazing at the ring, nestled in the black velvet box. The ring had been in the family for centuries. A large cushion-cut emerald surrounded by brilliant-cut diamonds, set in a white gold band accentuated by diamonds. She removed the ring from the box, examining it further. On the inside of the band, she noted, an engraving had been made. _Toujoirs Pur_. The Black family motto. “Yes,” she whispered, nodding. “Yes, I will marry you.”

* * *

Following tea, Sirius had been dragged along by Evelyn to her parent’s house, to announce their engagement. Her parents had insistently pulled out a bottle of champagne, toasting the upcoming nuptials. As talk fell to the more mundane topic of wedding dresses, Sirius had excused himself, leaving his wife-to-be with her parents. He apparated home, finding a letter summoning him to headquarters. Not bothering to change, he immediately apparated to HQ.   
  
Once there, he found the building quite empty. As no one was present downstairs, Sirius marched up the stairs to the second floor, where he and Dumbledore had met before. He found the old wizard waiting in the same office they had spoken in prior, gazing knowingly at the door. “At last, you have arrived,” Dumbledore noted, his blue eyes piecing through Sirius’ very soul.  
  
“My apologies,” Sirius started, taking a seat opposite the old wizard. “I was tied up.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“I’ve done what you’ve asked of me,” he noted, frowning.  
  
“My parents have reinstated my inheritance. And I proposed to Evelyn. We were at her parents, giving them the news,” he added, staring down at his feet.  
  
“You have done well, so far, Sirius,” Dumbledore noted, stroking his beard.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“This is only the beginning, however,” Dumbledore continued, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  
  
“I think Bella was one the ones who killed those muggles,” Sirius announced, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
“Oh?” he asked, intrigued.  
  
“She and her husband didn’t show up for the gala last night... Cissy claimed that she was away on business with her husband... I know Bella is a Death Eater... All of the others that I’m certain are were present last night... Besides them,” he continued, fidgeting slightly in his chair.  
  
“Thank you, Sirius. As you proceed with the mission, you will need to continue to get closer to the inner circle, gain knowledge on who is doing what... Perhaps with your help, we will be able to prevent tragedies like this from occurring,” Dumbledore noted, offering Sirius an approving smile.   
  
“I’m afraid that there is still quite a bit of hostility between my cousins and I... And Malfoy seems less than pleased to see I have returned to high society,” Sirius replied, sighing.   
  
“You will make amends. Whatever doubts they have, you need to gain their trust. And Lucius... There is a great deal of information you could acquire from Lucius.”  
  
“How? He hates me,” Sirius scoffed.  
  
“Yes. But he and Evelyn are lovers, are they not?” Dumbledore asked, elaborating.  
  
Sirius blanched, at a loss for words.  
  
“You mean you want me to... for my _wife_ to...”  
  
“Evelyn is useful far beyond being used to broker your re-entrance into society,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes cold.  
  
“You said she wouldn’t get hurt, that she would be kept out of this,” Sirius muttered accusingly.  
  
“And she won’t. So long as you do what is necessary and gain entrance to Voldemort’s inner ranks to gather intel,” Dumbledore retorted, his expression neutral.  
  
“Until then, make use of what knowledge Evelyn has about Malfoy. It is my understanding that he confides a great deal of his business to her.”  
  
“I don’t want my wife to continue seeing him. I mean... I-”  
  
“It would be wise for you to remember that you are on an important mission for the Order, _Black_. There is no room for your feelings to interfere with what must be done for the good of the cause. If you have no other source to gain intel from than your wife spying on her former lover, or by her sleeping with him to access such information, _so be it_.”  
  
Sirius swallowed, fists clenched, struggling to contain his anger.  
  
“You’re angry. You’ve always had quite the temper, haven’t you Sirius? As Moody noted, you can be rash, volatile. Perhaps you should put it to better use... Play the role necessary to be granted access to the Death Eaters. With your lineage and skill, there is great opportunity for you to be welcomed into their ranks. Do what must be done. More and more blood is shed, every day, Sirius. We need this war to end. We need _you_ to help win this war,” Dumbledore continued, rising from his seat.   
  
“I need to ask you something, Sirius,” he said suddenly, his blue eyes fixed on Sirius’ own gray ones.  
  
“Yes?” Sirius asked, nervously.  
  
“Before we go any further, I need to be certain of your dedication to our cause. If need be, are you willing to die to further our cause?”  
  
Sirius stared ahead silently, blind-sighted by the sudden query.  
  
“Yes,” he choked finally, his mind racing. “Yes, of course.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Sirius watched as Dumbledore paced the room, silence falling over the room.  
  
“It is my understanding that your brother was quite receptive to your return to your family.”  
  
“Yeah, he seemed pleased,” Sirius agreed, shrugging.  
  
“I would like for you to utilize your brother. Regulus is a Death Eater. I’m sure you would be able to gather a great deal of information from him,” Dumbledore said softly, his back to Sirius.  
  
“Okay... when is the next Order meeting?” Sirius asked, rising as well.  
  
Dumbledore turned, facing him. “I think you should make yourself scarce for the time being. As you have now publicly returned to your family, there will be much scrutiny of your behavior and who you associate with. I remind you that you _must_ distance yourself from your friends. You will not earn the trust of the Death Eaters if you are seen associating with them. Focus on the task at hand.”  
  
Sirius frowned, feeling his temper flare. “I _am_ focusing on the task at hand,” he snapped, nostrils flaring. “If you didn’t think I was fit for the task why’d you bloody offer me it?”  
  
“I’m not saying that you aren’t. I’m merely reminding you of the magnitude of what is at stake,” Dumbledore replied coolly, eyes twinkling.  
  
Sirius nodded, remaining silent.  
  
“Have you set a date?” Dumbledore asked.  
  
“Not yet. Soon, probably. Our engagement party is in a fortnight. I imagine we’ll be wed by January.”  
  
Sirius stared down at the ground, deep in thought. “If I’m not to attend Order meetings, how will I know what’s going on, report anything to you?”  
  
“I will contact you and arrange meetings, to discuss your progress.”  
  
“And what am I to do if James and the others come looking for me?” Sirius asked, his voice wavering.  
  
Dumbledore eyed him sternly, his lips forming a grimace. “If they show up on your doorstep, you will do whatever it takes to send them off. As I told you before, it is necessary that you sever all ties to them.”  
  
Sirius nodded, resigned. “Alright then. I suppose I should be off, then.”  
  
He nodded at his former Headmaster, making towards the door. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he heard Dumbledore call out his name.  
  
“Yes?” he asked, turning his head.  
  
“Congratulations. My regards to you and your lovely bride-to-be.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius quietly sipped his firewhiskey, half-listening to what his brother was saying, far too distracted taking in the scene before him to pay him much mind. Regulus, ever the eager younger brother, had dragged him along to some dirty pub in Knockturn Alley, to have a drink with some of his Slytherin ( _death eater_ ) chums. So far, Sirius had spotted six dark marks, seven including his brother, and was mentally taking note of the individuals’ names. As Reg continued to prattle on about something quidditch related, Sirius tuned him out, straining his ears to listen in on the conversation between Yaxley and Nott, at the next table over.  
  
“Rodolphus and I were saying, we really need to do something more than just killing them. It’s getting stale. After all, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel; those muggles are helpless against us. If we want to get any sort of reaction out of those bleeding-heart mud-bloods and blood-traitors, we need to incite fear,” Yaxley explained to his companion, gesturing wildly.  
  
Sirius leaned towards them, propping his head with his hand, struggling to get a better listen.  
  
“So what are you suggesting? That we torture them first, then kill them?” Nott asked, sounding intrigued.  
  
“I mean, think about it. Using the Cruciatus Curse, having those worthless muggles flung through the air, like rag-dolls, while those in the streets are left to watch.”  
  
“I’m sure Bella would love that,” Nott laughed, slamming his empty glass down. “That one is a bit sadistic, is she not?”  
  
“She certainly lives up to the infamy of the Black family. Pure bloody mad,” Yaxley noted, glancing towards Regulus and Sirius.  
  
“Sirius,” Reg said sharply, waving his hand in front of his face.  
  
“What?” Sirius shouted indignantly, startled. He glared at his brother, angry that he had distracted him from spying on Yaxley’s conversation.   
  
“So you proposed to Evelyn last week?” Reg asked, ignoring Sirius’ disdainful looks.  
  
“Yeah. In the parlor. Where were you, anyway?” Sirius asked, sighing heavily. He picked up his tumbler, draining the contents.  
  
“Thought you had only recently started dating,” Regulus noted, ignoring Sirius’ question.  
  
“Mum didn’t give me much of a choice, Reg. She pulled out the ring and handed it to me, with Evelyn sitting there,” Sirius muttered angrily, flagging down the bartender, to request another firewhiskey.  
  
“Guess she’s making up for lost time, jumping right into running my entire life for me,” Sirius noted, laughing bitterly.   
  
Regulus nodded. “It’s good to have you back, brother.”  
  
Sirius frowned, slamming down a galleon as the bartender placed his freshened beverage before him. “At least someone is,” he muttered.  
  
Regulus nodded sympathetically, taking a sip from his own glass. “People will warm up to you. After all, even if they did despise you for being a Gryffindor, everyone was still in awe of you. I mean, you were in the top of your class and didn’t even try. I know plenty of Slytherins were envious of that... Of your natural talent.”  
  
“I suppose,” Sirius retorted, staring down into the amber liquid before him.  
  
Regulus cleared his throat, appearing uncomfortable. “I saw Evelyn and Lucius out at one of their usual haunts, last night,” he noted, his eyes fixed on the wall directly behind Sirius.  
  
Sirius felt a surge of anger course through his veins, but forced himself to remain silent. Jaw clenched, he shrugged, reaching for his drink. “I’m aware... It’s fine.”  
  
Regulus observed him a moment, taken aback. “I expected you to be-”  
  
“Furious?” Sirius snapped, taking a swig of his drink. His nose wrinkled in disgust as the liquor burned his throat.   
  
“You’ve always been the possessive sort,” Reg replied, still eyeing him warily.  
  
“Let her get it out of her system before the wedding,” Sirius retorted, waving his hand dismissively. “She wants to say goodbye to her first love, I suppose,” he quipped, tossing back the remainder of his drink.  
  
“Evelyn must have been pleased by the turnout at the gala,” Reg noted, hastily changing the subject.  
  
“She was... It was a lovely evening. Though dear Cousin Bella was absent,” Sirius retorted. “ _You_ must see her quite frequently, how is she?”  
  
Regulus remained silent for a moment, observing him. “What makes you say that, Sirius?” he asked, his tone clipped.  
  
Sirius gave him a knowing look, motioning to the bartender to bring him another drink. “Reg.”  
  
“She and I don’t interact much,” he said at last, frowning. “She’s closer in age to you than me, Sirius... She’s in the inner ranks...” he trailed off, staring miserably down into his drink.  
  
Again, Sirius slammed money on the table, offering the bartender a curt nod of thanks upon receiving his beverage. He took a small sip, observing his brother.  
  
“Bella’s in love with him... It’s all quite scandalous, really.”  
  
“With him?” Sirius asked, frowning.  
  
“With _him_ ,” Regulus repeated, rolling his eyes.  
  
“And how does Rodolphus feel about that?” Sirius queried, intrigued.  
  
Again, Regulus rolled his eyes. “Bella doesn’t care about _him_. She only married him to fulfill her pure-blooded duties. It’s the Dark Lord who she showers her affection on.”  
  
Sirius nodded, eyebrows raised. “So she’s his lover, or mistress, or whatever?”  
  
Regulus laughed cruelly, his lips forming into a bitter smirk. “Voldemort doesn’t _love_ anyone. I’m sure he shags her, but she doesn’t matter to him. She’s just another soldier fighting for the cause.”  
  
Sirius stared, taking a sip of his drink, silently urging his brother to continue.  
  
“Well, perhaps that isn’t entirely true. After all, he is giving her private lessons. So I suppose he does hold her in higher esteem then the rest of us.”  
  
“What’s he like?” Sirius asked.  
  
Regulus frowned. “Why?”  
  
“I’ve never met him... All I know is what I’ve heard. That he’s the most powerful wizard to come about since I don't know... Dumbledore.”  
  
“I thought you were a great supporter of our former Headmaster,” Regulus noted coolly, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
Sirius shrugged. “Things change. Why would I continue to support someone who only attempts to hold me back, to force me to put my skills and talents to waste _for the greater good?_ Besides, I’m a Black. The minute something started to go downhill, they’d throw me to the wolves. It’s pointless... Better to stick to my own kind.”  
  
Regulus smiled, shaking his head. “You should have been in Slytherin, not Gryffindor. For all your courage and loyalty, you still have the cunning and sense of urgency for self-preservation coursing through your veins.” He shook his head, still grinning. “A Slytherin through and through.”  
  
Sirius laughed, shrugging his shoulders, before frowning slightly. _I was only sorted into Gryffindor because I begged not to be sorted into Slytherin._

* * *

“... And I would like to offer my brother and his beautiful bride-to-be my heartfelt congratulations as they begin their journey in creating their own branch of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Toujours Pur!”  
  
Sirius clinked his champagne flute against Evelyn’s, forcing a smile, as Regulus finished toasting the couple. As fellow party goers began to mill about the room, their attention no longer focused on the pair, Sirius leaned closer to her, head tilted to avoid prying eyes, his lips inches from her right ear. “So,” he whispered, through gritted teeth, ‘how _is_ Lucius?”  
  
Evelyn drew back from him, her lips forming an ‘o’ in surprise.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to speak but stopped, as he spotted Mrs. Greengrass approaching the pair.  
  
“Sirius, you don’t mind if I borrow Evie for a moment, do you? Emma and Miranda simply _must_ see that gorgeous ring,” she chattered happily, positively radiating with joy.  
  
_She’s certainly pleased that her daughter is finally getting married._  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, pecking Evelyn on the cheek.  
  
Sirius wandered towards the bar, pouring himself another drink. While there had been quite a turnout for the engagement party, a few key faces were noticeably absent. _Off performing Death Eater tasks, presumably._ He took a sip, observing the well-wishers milling about the Black family ballroom. Narcissa was speaking in hushed tones with her mother. Smirking, Sirius stroke towards the two women, offering his aunt and cousin a kiss each.   
  
“Congratulations, Sirius,” Narcissa replied tersely, after greetings had been exchanged.  
  
“Thank you, dear cousin. I’m so pleased that you could join us this evening... Though, where is Lucius?”  
  
Narcissa paled, fury burning in her eyes. “He will be here later. He is very busy with his _work_ , unlike some people.”  
  
Sirius heard the heavy front door creak open, followed by the pattering of footsteps up the stairs to the second floor. Before he could make a remark in response to Cissy’s obvious jab, Regulus appeared at his side, appearing anxious.  
  
“Sirius, a moment please?”  
  
Sirius nodded, shooting his brother a curious glance, but following him, all the same.  
  
“Reg, what’s going on?” he whispered, as they climbed the stairs, approaching the second floor.  
  
“You’re ace at healing spells, right?” Reg asked, whipping his head around to face him.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Sirius agreed.  
  
They came to a halt in front of the guest bathroom. “I need to know I can trust you. That _we_ can trust you,” Regulus said slowly, his eyes burning into Sirius’ own.  
  
“You can trust me, Reg,” Sirius replied, just as slowly. “I’m on _your_ side,” he continued, shooting his brother a meaningful look.  
  
Regulus nodded, turning the doorknob and quickly ushering Sirius inside, locking the door behind them.  
  
Lying in a heap on the floor was a dark haired man, his features mostly obscured by blood.   
  
“What’d he get hit with?” Sirius asked, turning to Rabastan Lestrange.  
  
“I dunno.. I... We tried everything we know but the cuts won’t close. We can’t stop the bleeding...”  
  
Sirius waved his hand impatiently, shoving Rabastan and two other Death Eaters aside. He kneeled before the body, wiping away blood to examine the wounds.  
  
“Using their own spells against them, how clever,” he muttered to himself, recognizing the handiwork immediately. _I suppose they’ve finally let Jamie show off what he can do._  
  
Pulling his wand from his robes, he traced the wounds, muttering “vulnera sanentur.” Once the facial wounds had been healed, he recognized the man lying before him; Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort’s first Death Eaters. He moved down to the man’s torso, again performing the healing spell. Satisfied with his work, he brought himself to his feet, turning to Regulus, who was watching him in awe.   
  
“You’ll want to treat the wounds with dittany, to prevent scarring. He should be fine, though. Looks like he was stunned before they hit him with that curse. Nasty thing, isn’t it?” he noted, glancing about the room.   
  
Regulus nodded numbly, excusing himself to go and rummage through the family’s apothecary cabinet.  
  
“Sirius Black,” Avery said suddenly, addressing him.  
  
“Yes,” he replied, his fingers instinctively gripping his wand harder.  
  
“Thank you for your services.”  
  
“I appreciate the opportunity to offer my assistance to _his_ cause,” Sirius replied, biting down on his inner cheek, drawing blood.  
  
Avery and Rabastan nodded approvingly, before turning their attention to Antonin.  
  
“There’s a guest room beside Reg’s. Best to let him have a bit of a lie in, I think,” Sirius offered, before turning on his heel. 

* * *

Quietly, Sirius descended the stairs, seamlessly rejoining the party. He made a beeline for the bar, sloshing a healthy pour of his father’s best firewhiskey into a tumbler. He raised the glass to his lips, savoring the first sip. He stood by the bar for a moment, watching as Evelyn worked the room, showing off her ring. _Quite the perfect trophy wife she’ll be. A gracious hostess, even at a party thrown in her honor._ Satisfied that she was busy for the moment, he turned his attention to the other side of the ballroom, watching as Rabastan approached Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Lucius. He took another sip, eyebrows knitted together in disgust, as he watched the four begin to talk quite animatedly, their eyes darting towards him. Sighing, he topped of his glass before making his way across the room towards them. As he approached, their chatter came to a halt, four sets of eyes watching him.   
  
“Cousin Bella,” Sirius said loudly, offering his cousin a forced grin. “It’s been too long.”  
  
“Indeed,” Bellatrix agreed, offering him a quick embrace.  
  
“I’m so pleased you and your husband were able to join us this evening,” Sirius continued, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
Bellatrix nodded, offering Sirius a half-hearted smile. “Of course. Another suitable pure-blooded marriage. Toujours pur!” she cheered, raising her glass.   
  
Sirius clinked his to hers, muttering the family motto agreeably. “Toujours pur!”  
  
“It’s a shame you were unable to attend the St. Mungo’s benefit,” he noted, swirling the contents of his glass.  
  
“I regret that Rodolphus and I were called away for quite important matters,” she quipped quickly, taking a sip of her own drink.  
  
Sirius sipped his drink while the four Death Eaters made idle chit-chat, interjecting his own comments occasionally, all the while watching Lucius watch Evelyn from across the room. He gritted his teeth, nodding in response to the Lestrange brothers’ goodbyes as they excused themselves to tend to other matters.  
  
Sirius turned his attention to Lucius, staring the blond down.  
  
“Lucius,” Sirius said icily, his lips forming a cruel smile. “A word, if you would?”  
  
Lucius nodded curtly, following as Sirius led him out of the ballroom, towards his father’s study. Lucius lingered in the doorway, watching as Sirius sipped his drink, his hand resting on his father’s mahogany desk. “Malfoy,” he began, sneering as he said the name.   
  
“Stay away from my wife. Whatever transpired between the two of you last week- yes, I know you were with her- I am willing to leave in the past. She has gotten her closure, and I assume you have done the same.”  
  
“She doesn’t love you, Black. Why do you want to marry her, anyway? Re-inherited or not, you’re still a blood-traitor, still can’t be trusted,” he sneered, arms crossed.  
  
“I would _love_ an excuse to slit your throat, Malfoy. Stay away from her. She’s _my_ wife, and I will happily kill you if you so much as lay a finger on her.”  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Sirius.  
  
“You’re a fool to think you were Evelyn’s one and only. _I_ had her long before she let _you_ go to bed with her,” he smirked, his gray eyes blazing with hatred.  
  
Not bothering to wait for a response, Sirius shoved Lucius aside, returning to the ballroom. He found Evelyn speaking with her mother, discussing possible dates for the wedding. “November,” he interrupted, interjecting himself into their conversation. “Why wait? We’ll marry in November.”  
  
Evelyn turned to her mother, who nodded enthusiastically. “A fall wedding would be lovely, Evie. We’ll have to see about getting you a dress... We’ll have to move quickly if we’re going to set the date for November... I should discuss this with Walburga... Excuse me...” Mrs. Greengrass muttered, leaving the couple to their own devices.  
  
“Where have you been?” Evelyn asked, frowning. “I’ve been looking for you.”  
  
“Just greeting our guests. They are here to celebrate _us_ , after all,” Sirius replied, faking cheerfulness.  
  
“I saw you approach Lucius,” she noted, taking a sip from her glass.  
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow, noting the scent of juniper on her breath.  
  
“It’s over, Siri... It’s you, and it always has been you. I just needed to... Say goodbye,” she concluded, tugging on his hand, pulling him closer to her.  
  
“I’m so tired,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.   
  
“Well then let’s go home, love.”  
  
Evelyn looked up, perplexed. “How can we leave? We can’t just _leave_ our engagement party, Sirius.”  
  
We’ve been toasted and Sirius shrugged. “Why not? We’ve already greeted and thanked everyone for coming. dinner was long ago served. At this point it’s less an engagement party and more an excuse for mother to use her good set of crystal. No one will even notice if we leave.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Of course I’m sure,” Sirius laughed, kissing her pertly on the lips. “Now let’s go home.”


	6. Chapter 6

Evelyn applied her makeup carefully, blocking out the voice of her mother, Helena, who was watching her from the doorway. She rimmed her eyes with kohl, careful to avoid applying too much, lest she have raccoon eyes. Though she was quite handy with beauty spells, Evelyn preferred doing her hair and makeup the muggle way, with her own hands; there was something beautiful about it, the delicate rituals of makeup application. They had laughed at her for it at school, her fellow Slytherins. Though never to her face, she though, smiling slightly. After all, she had been Lucius Malfoy’s girl. They would have never dared insult her to her face, regardless her eccentricity.  
  
“I still think it would be best if we had a dress made for you from scratch, Evelyn,” her mother continued, at last entering the bedroom.  
  
Evelyn remained silent, moving on to applying her mascara. Carefully, she ran the brush through her lashes, darkening her naturally light eyelashes. “We’re getting married next month, Mum. It’s a bit late to consider working from scratch, don’t you think?” she muttered, reaching for a tube of lipstick.  
  
She smiled as she twisted the tube, admiring the deep matte red; her mother hated when she wore red lipstick.  
  
“Even still, Evie... Getting a dress from a _muggle_ shop? Doesn’t that just scream _bad taste_?”  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes, blotting her lips with a tissue. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, satisfied with her handiwork.  
  
“What will his _mother_ think, seeing her son’s bride dressed like a common-”  
  
“What part of ‘this is what I want’ did you not understand, _mother_?” Evelyn snapped, turning her head to face her mother. She squeezed her hand into a fist, struggling to contain her anger. _Fuck, I would kill for a drink._  
  
The pair had already had a horrific fight over where to purchase her wedding gown, culminating in Evelyn hurling a crystal tumbler, still half-full of gin, at the wall, smashing it to pieces. “I think,” Evelyn had huffed, staring angrily at her mother, “that Sirius would agree with my decision. _He_ would want me to have what I want.”  
  
“Your father would be more than happy to reach out to one of the tailors he knows in Paris... _Please_ , Evelyn. This isn’t the time for your youthful rebellion... You are marrying a _Black_ ,” Helena persisted, taking a step closer to her daughter.  
  
She stood behind her, grabbing Evelyn’s hair brush from the vanity before her. “And take your hair down, please,” she noted, eyeing disapprovingly at Evelyn’s messy bun atop her head. “You have such beautiful hair, I wish you’d wear it down.”  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes, removing the elastic from her hair. “I just want to wear a dress that’s more _my_ style. I don’t want some ridiculous poufy gown like every other twat-ow!” she yelled, cringing from the pain of her mother brushing a knot out of her hair. “It is _my_ wedding, mother,” she continued, scowling.  
  
“Walburga and I have arranged a tasting this evening, to select the menu for the dinner. Will Sirius be on time, _for once_?” Helena asked, testily.  
  
Evelyn sighed, shrugging her shoulders. Admittedly, her mother was right. Thus far, Sirius had been late, missed, or had rushed off quickly from every endeavor related to the wedding. “I don’t know, mum. Hopefully,” she replied, frowning.  
  
Her mother let go of her hair, satisfied with her handiwork. “Well, let’s be on with it... We have an appointment to make,” she noted, tapping her wrist.   
  
Evelyn nodded, standing. She gathered her handbag, her thoughts still lingering on Sirius’ bizarre behavior. _He’s always running off, giving no explanation... Why?_

* * *

"Ugly, ugly, ugly," Evelyn muttered to herself, flipping through a rack of dresses. Two dozen dresses and three boutiques later, Evelyn still hadn't found a gown that came close to what she was looking for.   
  
"I still think you should look at the ballgowns, Evie," her mother noted, procuring a gown with a full tulle skirt from the rack.   
  
"I want something more... modern," Evelyn protested, turning her attention back to the rack.  
  
As she went on rejecting dresses, a sales girl looked on from a safe distance, appearing nervous. Admittedly, Evelyn and her mother could be a but intimidating, with their sharp aristocratic looks and icy demeanor. The very sight of the rock on Evelyn's finger had quelled protests from the sales girl that they needed an appointment to browse the boutique.  
  
"Ugh, don't you have anything with sleeves? All of this strapless nonsense... it's in such poor taste," Helena complained, sniffing haughtily.  
  
"Is there any particular fabric you were interested in?"the sales girl asked, eyeing Evelyn nervously.   
  
Evelyn paused a moment, thinking. "Lace, I think. I'd love a lace fit to flare... something tight down to mid-thigh, flaring out to the floor."  
  
The sales girl bit her lip in concentration, darting off towards a rack beside the cash register. Evelyn watched as the girl flipped through dresses, finally stopping, pulling the gown from the rack. She approached Evelyn with the gown, removing it from its protective plastic sheath. "We just got this in a week ago... its only a sample, we won't be able to order it for another three months, but you look tiny enough to fit a sample size and this fits what you seem to be looking for," the girl noted, offering her a warm smile.  
  
Evelyn eyed the gown, examining it's every feature. True to her word, the dress did have the main features that she desired; it was a lace fit to flare, with a trumpet silhouette. The gown featured a bateau neckline with full lace sleeves, as well as a plunging back.  
  
“Alencon lace with silk taffeta underlay,” the clerk chirped happily, wringing her hands nervously.   
  
“It’s perfect,” Evelyn breathed, glancing towards her mother.  
  
“That certainly is elegant,” Helena agreed, nodding in approval.  
  
“Would you like to try it on?” the girl asked, turning back to Evelyn.  
  
“Please,” she agreed, following the girl to the changing room.  
  
While the clerk waited outside the room for her to slip into the gown, Evelyn silently charmed the dress, re-sizing it to fit her perfectly.  
  
“Are you ready?” the clerk asked, tapping lightly on the door.  
  
Evelyn swung open the door, anxious to see herself in a full mirror.  
  
“Oh my, the dress fits you like a glove... Exquisite. It’s like it was made for you,” the girl gasped, mesmerized by the perfect fit.  
  
Evelyn smiled politely, following the girl to the front of the shop, where her mother expectantly awaited. She smiled as her mother beamed at her, anxious to have a glance in the mirror. She struggled to stand still as the clerk pinned a veil into her hair, fidgeting as the girl toyed with her hair. “Alright, if you’d like to go and take a look in the mirror, now,” she noted, nodding towards a pedestal before a tri-fold mirror.   
  
Evelyn stood on the pedestal, barely able to hold back a gasp as she examined herself in the mirror. The girl had been quite honest with her initial reaction; the dress did fit her like a dream. The dress managed to balance the qualities that she and her mother were both looking for in a wedding gown; modern yet conservative. Elegant yet edgy. The form-fitting gown appeased her desire for something different than the brides she had witnessed at other pure-blooded weddings, yet the lace sleeves and conservative neckline appeased their conservative traditions. She turned to the side, examining herself from every angle, careful to ensure there was not a single flaw with the gown. Once satisfied that the dress was perfect, she turned to her mother, expectant. “Well?” she asked, hands placed firmly on her hips.  
  
“It’s gorgeous, Evelyn,” her mother beamed, tears forming in her eyes. “Sirius won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

* * *

Evelyn glanced at her wristwatch, checking the time. Half-past four. _Where the bloody hell is he?_ She had apparated to Sirius’ flat at nearly four, desperate to avoid her mother after their hellish afternoon of dress shopping. _At least I got the dress I wanted._ She strode over to his liquor cabinet, pouring herself a drink. _She’ll be right furious with me if we’re late for the tasting._ She brought the glass to her lips, taking a deep sip.  
  
She frowned, glancing around the sparse apartment. Evelyn prided herself on her ability to read others, always able to dissect their feelings, the motives behind their actions. _Forever a cunning Slytherin_. However, that skill seemed to obliterate when it came to Sirius. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, contemplating snooping about her belongings. For all the years she had known him, Evelyn still didn’t quite know what to make of Sirius. His sudden decision to return to his family had thrown her through a loop, that was certain.   
  
She paused, staring down into her glass. Evelyn was well aware of the strained relationship Sirius had with his family, growing up. After all, they had been childhood friends. Even when they became of schooling age, despite their house differences, Sirius and Evelyn had always gotten on quite well. He had confided in her, trusting her to keep the sordid details of his mother’s sharp tongue and his father’s harsh hand to herself. _Surely, he wouldn’t return back, after all of that, without good reason_. She frowned, draining her glass.  
  
At least, the front door swung open, Sirius striding lazily through. “Lo. Did we have plans?” he asked, offering her a soft smile.   
  
Evelyn drew a sharp breath, slamming her glass on the coffee table. “We have a tasting. For the wedding. _Our_ wedding. Remember?” she spat, unable to hide the venom in her tone.  
  
Sirius paused a moment, contemplating. “Shite. Forgot about that. I’m sorry... are we late?” he asked, wandering towards his bedroom.  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes, following him. “Not yet, but we _will_ be if you don’t _hurry up_.”  
  
Sirius pulled on a set of robes, not bothering to remove his muggle tee shirt and jeans. “Just a second and I’ll be all set. There. See?” he asked gleefully, offering her what she presumed to be his most charming grin.  
  
“Where were you, anyway?” she asked, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“Out.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Evelyn, does it matter?” Sirius retorted, beginning to scowl.  
  
“I just don’t understand why you’re always running off to something or hurrying back from wherever, always refusing to tell me where you-”  
  
“Why are you so concerned with my whereabouts, Evelyn? Guilty conscience?” Sirius snapped.  
  
Evelyn felt her face crumple, recoiling from his sharp words. “Do you even _want_ to marry me, Sirius?” she whispered, struggling to hold back tears.  
  
Sirius sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Evie, I’m sorry... I didn’t... that was wrong... Of course I want to marry you... It’s always been you, you know that, don’t you?” he asked, moving towards her, reaching forward to stroke her hair.   
  
Evelyn shrugged, staring down at the floor.   
  
“Oh come on, Evelyn. I was out of line. Go ahead and slap me, I know that’s what you wanted to do,” Sirius teased, smiling at her.  
  
Evelyn smirked, lifting her head to face him. “What ever will I do with you, Sirius Orion Black?” she lamented, giving him a light smack across his face with her palm.  
  
She smiled, reveling in the moment. This was one of the things that she had always loved about Sirius; he treated her as an equal. He had never expected her to fit into the role of submissive, beautiful but brainless pure-blooded woman that every other man had so desperately wanted her to be. The role that she had tried to play but had found did not fit her at all, no matter how badly she may have wanted it to.   
  
“Where’s the tasting being held?” Sirius queried, drawing Evelyn back to reality.  
  
“Your house... well, your mum’s,” Evelyn retorted, biting her lip nervously.  
  
“I don’t know why they insist on having us continue this charade of ‘planning’ our wedding. They’ve already sorted out all the details _for_ us,” Sirius noted sourly, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Evelyn sighed. “At least my mother has relented on the wedding dress.”  
  
“Did you find something, yet?”  
  
“Yeah,” Evelyn nodding.  
  
“And when do I get to see?”  
  
“At the wedding.”  
  
“But shouldn’t I get the final say in what my bride-to-be will be wearing when I take her hand-”  
  
Evelyn interrupted him by placing her lips to his, kissing him. “You’re such a prat,” she told him, grinning, as their lips parted.

* * *

Cursing to himself, Sirius swung open the door to the room where the Order was meeting, well-aware that he was nearly a half hour late. Ignoring the pointed stares in his direction, Sirius quickly lowered himself into a vacant seat, his eyes pointed towards the floor. He had been elated when Dumbledore had given him the good news that afternoon, permitting him to begin attending Order meetings, again. However, the food tasting for the wedding had gone on far longer than Sirius had expected. _Not to mention Evie refusing to let go of her grasp on me_. He frowned, thinking of the quarrel he’d had with her earlier in the day. _It’s not that I want to lie to her. I’d tell her if I could._  
  
“For now, we still feel it would be best to avoid using the unforgivables as a means of weaponry,” Dumbledore noted, as Sirius continued to stare down at his feet.  
  
“But using _their_ own curse is fair game, right?” Sirius muttered, more so to himself than aloud.  
  
“What was that you said, _Black_?” Moody hissed, swiftly crossing the room and standing before him. “How nice of you to decide to make an appearance, at long last,” he snarled, eyeing Sirius with obvious dislike.   
  
“I just don’t see the point in not using the unforgivables if you have no problem using _Snivel_ -er Snape’s curses on them. Those are just as bad... I mean, we’re in a war, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we be fighting fire with fire?” Sirius asked, his eyes burning with rage.  
  
“You seem awfully eager to use the unforgivables, _Black_ ,” Moody sneered, his lips twisting into an expression of disgust.   
  
Sirius felt a tinge of anxiety as he felt the others in the room, his peers, watching him.  
  
“As I’m sure you _know_ , it requires more than just waving your wand and muttering the incantation to perform dark magic like that... You have to _want_ to hurt, to main, to kill,” Moody continued, his eyes boring holes into Sirius’.  
  
Dumbledore coughed tentatively, attempting to draw back the attention of the group.  
  
As Moody turned to return to his place in the front of the room, he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Sirius to hear, “Though, there’s no doubt you have the killer instincts of your bloodline, _Black_.”  
  
Once the meeting had drawn to a close, Sirius rose from his seat, prepared to make a hasty exit from the building. However, he froze, feeling a strong grip on his shoulder.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked, craning his neck to see who was behind him.  
  
“Haven’t seen you in a while, _mate_ ,” James said accusingly, frowning.  
  
Remus and Peter looked on, watching Sirius carefully.  
  
Sirius stared down at the floor for a moment, considering his response. “I’ve been busy,” he said finally, shrugging. “But I’m free for a drink if you lads have the time.”  
  
James grinned, stepping forward to slap him on the back. “Finally, _Pads_ is back!” he cheered, elated.

* * *

Keeping Dumbledore’s warning to keep his friendship with the Marauders under wraps, he suggested that they head into muggle London for drinks. The four apparated to Camden, Sirius having decided that it was a far enough distance from home to keep Evelyn from running into them.  
  
“The World’s End,” Remus noted, reading the sign hanging over the establishment’s entrance.  
  
“Fitting name, given the circumstances and all, isn’t it?” Sirius noted, shrugging.  
  
The foursome entered the pub, settling at a secluded corner table. “Moony, will you go and order us drinks? You know I’m rubbish at dealing with muggle money,” James asked, shoving a fistful of bills into Remus’ hands.  
  
“Get me a whiskey, will you?” Sirius asked, reaching into his own pockets for some bills.  
  
Remus nodded, before hurrying off to the bar, Peter following behind him.  
  
“How’s Lily?” Sirius asked, appreciating a moment of alone time with his best mate.  
  
“She’s good. She misses you, though. _We_ miss you. I know it’s been... _different_ since Lils and I-”  
  
“It’s okay, Jamie. I’m glad you’re happy, though. I’ve missed you, too.”  
  
Remus and Peter returned from the bar, armed with pints of beer and a double whiskey.   
  
“Dunno how you can drink that muggle stuff,” Peter noted, making a face as he handed Sirius his drink.  
  
“Come on now, you know Sirius is a deviant. Of course he can handle non-wizarding booze,” James laughed, taking a swig of his pint.  
  
“So what have you been busy doing, Padfoot?” James asked, once Remus and Peter were settled in their seats.  
  
The trio turned expectantly towards Sirius, anxiously awaiting his response.  
  
Sirius drained half his glass, in a futile attempt to bide time.  
  
“Well,” he noted, wiping his lips with his sleeve, “Evie’s had me busy, running around here and there,” he began, sighing heavily.  
  
James nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“We’re um... we’re getting married,” he concluded lamely, forcing a half-hearted grin.  
  
“You’re what?” Remus sputtered, slamming his glass onto the table.   
  
Sirius glanced at James and Peter, who each wore similarly perplexed expressions.  
  
“We decided, why wait? What with the war and all... so we’re getting married in November,” he noted, tossing back the remainder of his drink.   
  
Again, Sirius was met with blank stares. “I expect the three of you to do me proud, Marauders and all, at the wedding. God knows it’ll need some livening up, given the crowds that will be in attendance,” he noted, smirking.   
  
“You mean, you _want_ us in your wedding, Pads?” Remus asked, looking a bit shocked.  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. _Do they really think I don’t care for them, anymore?_ “You three chaps are my best friends. How could I possibly take the plunge and tie the knot without my best mates there?” he asked, smiling warmly at Remus.   
  
“Does this mean I get to return the favor of giving an embarrassing drunk toast at the reception?” James asked, grinning wickedly.  
  
“Oh come on, James, I wasn’t so bad,” Sirius laughed, shaking his head.  
  
“You stripped in the process of giving your speech,” James said pointedly, deadpanned.  
  
“At least I had the decency to wear pants underneath my trousers,” Sirius countered.  
  
“For once,” Remus chimed in, smirking.  
  
“Oi... Come on, now!”  
  
“I can’t believe it,” James smirked, shaking his head. “My little Pads, all grown up.”  
  
“So how’d she manage to snatch up the ever elusive Sirius Black?” Remus asked, taking a sip of his beer.  
  
“Sirius has always had a sweet spot for his darling Evie,” James laughed, smirking.  
  
“Really?” Peter asked, brows furrowed. “I thought she was with Malfoy all through school.”  
  
“Pads popped her cherry when we were what, fourteen?” James asked, looking to Sirius for confirmation.  
  
“I’ll admit you have good taste. She’s a nice bit of posh, that Evelyn,” Peter noted, nodding approvingly.  
  
Sirius smiled, enjoying the familiar bantering between his mates.  
  
“Does Lucius know?” Remus asked, taking a final swig of his beer.  
  
Sirius sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even know where to begin, with _that_ tosser. Gonna need another drink for that,” he noted, rising to his feet.  
  
He quickly made his way to the bar, ordering a round of whiskey for the table. Though Sirius never mentioned it, he was actually quite good at handling muggle money. Surprisingly enough, Evelyn had helped him with that, as she enjoyed frequenting nightclubs and bars in the hipper parts of Chelsea. He returned to his friends, slamming the rocks glasses on the table.  
  
“So how’d Malfoy take the news that you’re marrying his bird?” James asked, staring intently.  
  
“He’s livid, naturally. I may have had to threaten him to stay the hell away from her, but so be it,” Sirius noted, waving a hand dismissively.  
  
“Do you think that was wise, Pads?” Remus asked nervously, wincing from the smell of the cheap well whiskey.  
  
“Malfoy can slag off. He _chose_ to marry Cissy. Not my problem.”  
  
“What’d you say to him?” Peter asked eagerly.  
  
“Told him I’d had Evelyn _long_ before he ever did, so if she was anyone’s she’s _mine_ ,” Sirius noted, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
James shook his head, laughing. He grabbed his glass of whiskey, raising it up. “I’d like to propose a toast. To the Marauders,” he began, nodding for the others to join in.  
  
Sirius raised his glass, clinking it against the others’. “Marauders forever,” he cheered, tossing back the contents of his drink.


	7. Chapter 7

Evelyn sat stiffly in a chair, resisting the urge to light up a cigarette while a hairdresser styled her hair. Despite a spirited fight, her mother had insisted that she have her hair professionally done for her wedding day. _Hopefully they don’t fuck it up. Don’t turn me into another cookie cutter bride._ “Ow,” she muttered, jerking her head forward as she felt a sharp tug on a strand of her hair. From the corner of her eye, she could see her mother seated by her dressing table, having her makeup done. The women of the Black and Greengrass families had gathered in the master suite of Greengrass Manor to have their hair and makeup done for the wedding, much to Evelyn’s displeasure. Her mother and Sirius’ had both sharply vetoed her request to dress and prepare for her wedding day in private, insisting that they join her in getting ready.  
  
“Really, Evelyn,” her mother had noted, shaking her head, “what fun would it be, getting ready alone?”  
  
Evelyn had bitten her tongue, relinquishing control over yet another detail of her wedding day.   
  
She tuned out the voices of her mother and Walburga, _my mother-in-law, I suppose_ , instead staring ahead at the wall. _Thank heavens I don’t have to spend another moment living under her roof_. The next morning, she and Sirius would be moving into their own row-home, in Chelsea, a wedding gift from Sirius’ parents.   
  
“At least they didn’t buy us the house next door to them in Grimmauld Place,” Sirius had told her upon hearing the news of the gift.  
  
“Look at how beautiful she looks with her makeup like that,” Helena cooed, interrupting Evelyn’s train of thought.  
  
“She’s a natural beauty, indeed,” Walburga agreed, nodding approvingly.  
  
Evelyn smiled politely, forcing herself to keep her eyes from rolling back. Again, at her mother’s insistence, her makeup had been applied subtly. The makeup artist had applied a nude shadow on her lids, lightly lining her eyes with black eyeliner. A dash of mascara and a peach gloss on her lips completed her look. _Ugly, ugly, ugly_ , Evelyn thought miserably, crossing her arms. At last, the hairdresser finished curling her hair. For her wedding day, they had decided to leave her long platinum locks down, curled loosely and pinned to the side.   
  
“Are you ready to get into your dress?”  
  
Evelyn nodded, rising from her seat. Carefully, she disrobed, taking care to not move a single strand of hair out of place. Again biting her tongue, she allowed her mother and mother-in-law to assist her in getting into her gown, offering the two women a gracious smile as they zipped the gown closed. She kept her grin plastered to her face as Walburga procured a gold box from the bed, motioning for her to join her.  
  
“This has been in our family for generations. The Black family diamond tiara. Fourteenth century, Goblin-crafted. It would please me to no end to have you wear this for the ceremony, Evelyn,” Walburga elaborated, smiling warmly.  
  
“Of course, I... It would be my honor,” Evelyn agreed, smiling back. She stood still as her mother pinned her veil into her hair, Walburga gently placing the tiara atop her head.  
  
“Take a look in the mirror,” she insisted, nudging her forward.  
  
Evelyn approached her mother’s floor-length mirror, taken aback by her reflection. As the others had said, she did look beautiful. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawlessly applied. The dress looked even better on her than it had in the shop, she noted, turning to assess her appearance from every angle. _I look like a bride_.  
  
Helena glanced at her timepiece, frowning. “We need to be getting downstairs. It’s nearly time,” she noted, nodding at Evelyn.   
  
“Can someone please make sure that Sirius isn’t out lingering in the halls. He can’t see his bride before the wedding,” Walburga barked out, looking expectantly at the lingering hairdressers and makeup artists. “Forget it,” she noted, rolling her eyes. “I’ll do it myself.”

* * *

Sirius swirled the contents of his glass, pacing the room. _This is it_. He took a sip, pausing for a moment. _I’m getting married. Me. Sirius Black_. The fateful day had arrived; in less than a half hour’s time, he would be waiting for Evelyn to march down the aisle towards him. _I think I’m going to vomit._  
  
“Alright, mate?”  
  
Sirius looked up, his anxiety decreasing a bit at the sight of his best friend. “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly.  
  
“You’ll be alright, Padfoot. So long as you don’t trip or mess up your vows,” James assured him, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Oh Merlin, don’t jinx me, Jamie! Now I’m bound to forget my vows!” Sirius laughed, shaking his head.  
  
I still can’t believe it... Padfoot’s getting married. I always thought you’d be the lone bachelor of the Marauders.”  
  
Sirius shrugged, taking a nervous sip of his drink. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”  
  
James took his glass from him, tossing back the remains. “Why? You love her, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” Sirius admitted, truthfully. “I think it’s always been her... I just...” _What if I get caught and drag her down with me? I couldn’t stand for her to-_  
  
“Remus sends his love, by the way,” James noted, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
Sirius nodded, frowning. “Rough full, eh?”  
  
James nodded. “Pete is here, though. And I get to make my speech!” he added gleefully.  
  
“I can hardly wait,” Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes.  
  
“You ready to to do this, Pads?” he asked, grinning broadly.   
  
“Yeah. I am.”  
  
“Alright. Let’s get out there, then.”

* * *

Sirius stood nervously at the makeshift alter, watching as James and Evelyn’s friend walked down the aisle, fast approaching him. He grinned as he felt James’ reassuring hand on his shoulder, taking his place beside him. Sirius felt his heart begin to race as Evelyn began to march down the aisle, accompanied by her father. She looked radiant, a goddess on earth, clad in her skin-tight white gown. He felt tears prickle his eyes as she approached him, his gaze transfixed on her.   
  
“Hey,” she whispered, coming to a halt directly across from him.  
  
“Hey,” he whispered back, unable to keep himself from grinning.  
  
“Friends, family, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Sirius Orion Black III and Evelyn Renee Greengrass in holy matrimony. If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”  
  
The room filled with silence for a moment, Sirius breaking eye contact with Evelyn to shoot a sinister glare in Lucius Malfoy’s direction.   
  
“And now, if the couple would like to exchange their vows,” Harold Minchum, Minister of Magic announced, nodding at the pair.  
  
Sirius cleared his throat, eyeing Evelyn nervously. “Evelyn, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life,” he said softly and smoothly, sliding a ring onto Evelyn’s finger.  
  
Evelyn smiled, tears pooling in her eyes. “Sirius, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life.” Carefully, she slid a ring onto Sirius’ finger.  
  
“You may now kiss your bride.”  
  
With shaky hands, Sirius drew Evelyn closer, pressing his lips to hers. After a moment, the pair separated, eyeing one another hungrily.   
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Sirius Orion Black.”

* * *

Evelyn smiled, Sirius by her side, standing at the head of the receiving line, waiting to greet her guests. Their wedding ceremony had been short and sweet, going off without a hitch. Evelyn was grateful that Helena and Walburga had come to agreement over holding the wedding at the Greengrass’ country manor in East Sussex, finding the familiar location to be soothing. The ceremony had been held in the main parlor, with the reception to be held in the large ballroom down the hall. Evelyn felt a jolt of panic as she caught sight of Lucius and Narcissa approaching them in the receiving line.  
  
“Congratulations Sirius, Evelyn,” Narcissa said curtly, offering a nod of her head at the two of them.  
  
Evelyn bit her lip, nodding in response. “Thank you for coming. We’re so pleased you could join us on this glorious occasion,” she retorted, through gritted teeth.  
  
The two blondes stared one another down for a moment, sizing each other up. Evelyn drew her eyes away as she felt Sirius’ fingers entwine with her own, giving her hand a small squeeze. After what felt like an eternity, the pair at last finished greeting their guests.  
  
“Shall we get a drink?” Sirius asked, kissing her lightly on the cheek.  
  
Evelyn smiled back, nodding eagerly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Sirius sat beside Evelyn, watching their guests mingle about the room. In an effort to avoid both their parents, the couple have insisted on forgoing the traditional wedding party table, instead requesting to dine alone, at a table for two. A photographer for the Daily Prophet approached the table, camera raised. Sirius raised his champagne flute, clinking it against Evelyn’s as the couple offered the camera their brightest smiles. Once the photographer was a safe distance away, Sirius let his grin fall from his face, turning to Evelyn. “When will they stop taking pictures of _us_?” he groaned, exchanging his champagne for a tumbler of firewhiskey.  
  
“Well it _is_ our wedding, Siri,” Evelyn teased, hastily grabbing for her tumbler of gin.  
  
He watched as she brought the glass to her lips, taking a dainty sip. She licked her lips, returning the glass to the table, smiling at him. “I’ll admit, I am getting a bit sick of it. My face hurts from smiling.”  
  
“Is it wrong of me that I just want to get this over with and take you home?” Sirius asked, draining his glass.  
  
Evelyn grinned, grabbing his left hand and taking it in her own. “If I weren’t a proper pure-blooded wife now, I’d insist on you taking me upstairs to consummate our marriage, immediately,” she noted, laughing.  
  
“Oh, I will absolutely _ravish_ you, Evelyn _Black_ ,” Sirius grinned, baring his sharp canines.   
  
“Mrs. Evelyn Black. That _does_ have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” she asked, leaning forward for a kiss.

* * *

“James, would you mind getting me another drink?” Lily asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at her husband.   
  
“Of course, my lily flower,” James said agreeably, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. “C’mon, Pete,” he noted, rolling his sleeves up. The reception was in full-swing, and James had been drinking, rather heavily, for the past two hours. James and Peter rose from their table, leaving Lily in the company of several of Evelyn’s former classmates. The two Marauders and Lily had been relegated to a table of fellow Hogwarts alum, carefully kept a safe distance from known Death Eaters.   
  
“Pads looked totally mortified while you gave your speech, mate,” Peter laughed, as the pair made their way towards the bar.   
  
“Oh come on, you know _everyone_ was dying to know the origin story of Evelyn and Sirius... It’s not my fault he wasn’t a particularly eloquent fifteen year old when he told me about giving Evelyn the time at the Lestrange party...” James slurred, trailing off as they reached the bar. “I’ll take two double firewhiskeys,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, further tousling his locks.  
  
Once drinks had been procured, the two headed back to their table, only to be interrupted by Lucius Malfoy.  
  
“Tell me Potter, how _does_ it feel to be a traitor to your bloodline?” Lucius asked, his lips twisted into a sinister smile.  
  
James rolled his eyes, nodding to Pete to head back to their table without him. “Dunno, _Malfoy_. How did it feel to watch the love of your life marry someone else?”  
  
Lucius’ jaw tightened, his blue eyes glowing with fury. He tilted his head towards the table Peter had retreated to, smirking.  
  
“I see your other little friend, the half-blood, couldn’t be bothered to show up for his best mate’s wedding. A pity,” he paused, turning his head back towards the table, yet again.  
  
“A pity that you didn’t leave your mud-blood slag home with the half-blood-”  
  
Lucius was cut short by James’ fist colliding with his jaw. He staggered back a few steps, nearly toppling to his feet.  
  
“How dare you,” James spat, grabbing Lucius by the collar. “That’s my _wife_ you foul-”  
  
“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, quickly edging himself into the ensuing conflict.  
  
“Your ill-mannered friend took a swing at me,” Lucius huffed, rubbing his jaw.  
  
Sirius sighed, placing his hand on James’ shoulder. “Jamie, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”  
  
“Sirius he-”  
  
“He cold cocked me, _Black_. For fuck’s sake, control your brute of a friend,” Lucius interrupted, shooting the duo an icy glare.  
  
Sirius sighed, turning his attention to James. “James, I think you better go.” _Please forgive me, mate._  
  
James stared, confused, as if he hadn’t registered the words just uttered from Sirius’ lips.  
  
“You’ve already created a scene, and there’s a reporter from the Prophet here, they’re doing a piece on our wedding for the society pages. I hardly want to have a brawl detracting away from the most important night of my life, James.”  
  
“But Sirius-”  
  
“Please James. Just go. I’ll let Lily and Peter know you’ve gone,” Sirius interrupted, struggling to keep his voice even, barely able to force himself to look his best mate in the eye.  
  
“Don’t bother. I’ll gather my wife, myself, I-”  
  
“James, please. You’re making a _scene_ ,” Sirius pleaded, struggling to keep his tone firm. “You need to go.”  
  
“Why don’t you tell _Malfoy_ , who’s been eyeing up your _wife_ all night, by the way, to go? He started it,” James shouted, backing away from Sirius.   
  
“James,” Sirius noted warningly, shooting him a pointed look.   
  
“Congratulations, Sirius. Send my regards to your lovely wife. Thanks for having us,” James sneered, shooting Sirius a filthy look before turning on his heel and storming out of the ballroom.   
  
Lucius watched as James retreated, looking vindicated.  
  
Sirius took a deep breath, turning his attention to the blond. “Lucius, stay the _bloody hell_ away from my wife,” Sirius snapped, before hastily retreating towards the bar. _I need to get drunk. Very, very drunk. Immediately._

* * *

“Sirius.”  
  
Sirius turned his head, taking in the appearance of his bride, frowning at him. “Hmmm?” he mumbled, taking a deep sip of his firewhiskey.  
  
“The photographer from the Prophet wants to get another photo of us in the gardens. Come on now, please?” Evelyn begged, tugging at his free hand.  
  
“Evelyn, we spent damn near an hour taking photos, already. Can’t we just enjoy our bloody reception?” Sirius complained, nodding at the bartender to fix him another drink.   
  
Evelyn sighed, biting her lip. “I’m sorry... You’re right. I... I saw James and his wife leaving. Is everything alright?” she asked nervously.  
  
“Jamie took a swing at Lucius. Had no choice but to ask him to leave,” Sirius replied curtly, taking a swig of his freshened beverage.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Evelyn sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Get me a double gin. Neat.”  
  
Evelyn accepted her glass gratefully, knocking back half the contents with one gulp. “You okay?” she asked.  
  
“No.”  
  
“I’m sorry... I know it’s difficult for you, being stuck under all these rules of etiquette again.”  
  
“It’s fine, Evie. James and I... “ he paused, staring despondently down into his drink. “He’ll get over it.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, her brows furrowed. “Still... I know how close you and your friends were... I hate to see you upset. I do want nothing but your happiness, you know that don’t you, Siri?”  
  
Sirius smiled wryly, raising his glass up, as if making a toast. “Yeah... I know. Here’s looking at you, kid.”


	8. Chapter 8

“I have a board meeting this afternoon at St. Mungo’s,” Evelyn noted, as she descended the stairs.  
  
“That’s nice,” Sirius offered, looking up from his paper.  
  
“The Lestrange’s invited us to dinner. Around seven?”  
  
Sirius made a face, shrugging. “Tonight?”  
  
“Yes, tonight. I meant to tell you yesterday, but it slipped my mind.”  
  
Sirius nodded, watching as Evelyn examined her reflection in the mirror hanging above their couch, fixing her hair.  
  
“I suppose we can make an appearance,” he agreed, sighing.  
  
“I told Emma I’d meet her for lunch in Diagon Alley, but I should be home by four.”  
  
Sirius nodded, glancing down at his watch. He placed his paper down onto the coffee table, rising to his feet. “Well, I’m heading out. I’ll see you around four, then?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“Out.”  
  
“Yes, I understand you’re going out,” Evelyn noted, exasperated, “but where are you going? What are you doing? With whom?”  
  
“Why does it matter, Evie? I’m just going out,” Sirius replied, kissing her softly on the neck.  
  
Evelyn jerked away, removing herself from Sirius’ touch.  
  
“What’s wrong, what did I do?” Sirius asked, unnerved by Evelyn’s sudden mood swing.  
  
“Is this how it’s going to be between us?” Evelyn asked, wandering towards the liquor cabinet.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked, frowning.  
  
“ _This_. All these secrets you’re keeping from me.”  
  
“Evelyn, you’re being ridiculous, I-”  
  
“Why won’t you tell me where you’re always running off to?”  
  
Sirius watched Evelyn carefully across the room, watching as she poured herself a drink.  
  
“Isn’t it a little early for gin, Evelyn?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Isn’t it a little early in our marriage for you to become such a complete arsehole?” she snapped.   
  
“I don’t see what the problem is, Evelyn. You already said you have plans for the day. You have your board meeting and lunch with your _friend_. Why does it matter that I’m going out? Why do you feel the need to know _every minute detail of my life_?”  
  
“Because I’m your _wife_!” Evelyn screeched, tossing back half the contents of her drink. “You should be able to trust me with everything!”  
  
“Evelyn, you’re being irrational,” Sirius snapped, making to take a step towards her.  
  
“You won’t tell me where you go, what you do, why? What are you so afraid of me finding out?”  
  
“You’re hardly one to talk of keeping secrets, Evelyn,” Sirius sneered, shaking his head in disgust.  
  
“You think that I don’t know about you and Malfoy? How you still talk to him, how you met him for lunch not even a week after our _wedding_? I always suspected you were a whore, but honestly-”  
  
“Fuck you!” Evelyn spat, hurtling her glass at him.  
  
Her aim was off, so it swerved past Sirius’ head, smashing spectacularly against the wall.  
  
Sirius stared at her for a moment, feeling his blood boil. He curled his shaking hands into fists, his arms hanging limply at his sides. “Be a good housewife and clean up your mess, _Mrs. Black_ ,” Sirius snarled, before exiting the room for the foyer.

* * *

Once in the foyer, he grabbed his coat from the hall closet, shrugging it on. He slammed the front door shut with a resounding bang, anger still emanating from his very core. He quickly apparated to the outside of headquarters, fists still clenched tightly as he entered the building. Ignoring the pointed stares he received from fellow members of the Order, Sirius stormed through the hallway to the meeting room, anger still coursing through his veins.  
  
“Hey mate,” Remus greeted him, motioning for him to join him where he was seated.  
  
Sighing, Sirius took a seat beside his friend, offering a terse hello before focusing his attention on staring at the floor.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the wedding... I had a rough full,” Remus explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not mad, are you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Sirius replied, glancing up at his friend. “You weren’t well.”  
  
The meeting came to a start and Sirius returned to staring at the ground, intent to keep a low profile. He barely heard a word that was said, too occupied with thoughts of his altercation with Evelyn to concentrate on Dumbledore’s speech or Moody’s rants. _I shouldn’t have called her a whore. Maybe I should just tell her the truth..._ He was aware that his accusation had not been entirely true. While Malfoy _had_ been present at a luncheon she had attended, there had also been several other board members and distinguished guests, drumming up donations for the hospital. He frowned, biting on his lower lip.   
  
“ _....Black_?”  
  
Sirius looked up, confused as to whom was addressing him. “What?” he asked dumbly, scanning the room nervously.  
  
“Typical,” Moody spat, shaking his head in disgust. “Too busy daydreaming to be bothered to pay attention.”  
  
Sirius sat mutely, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“I was asking if you’d been bothered to do your _job_ and compile a list of counter-curses and healing spells that will be useful for those actually _fighting_ in the field, in the case of an emergency,” Moody elaborated icily. “Since you’re _allegedly_ a talented healer.” Sirius winced at his sharp words, biting his tongue to keep himself from offering a smart reply.  
  
“I did complete that,” Sirius replied after a moment, retrieving a folded piece of parchment from the breast-pocket of his coat.  
  
Moody approached him, taking the folded parchment from him. “Thank you,” he growled, offering Sirius a scowl.   
  
After a final speech from Dumbledore, the meeting was adjourned. Sirius stood quickly, offering Remus a hurried goodbye while attempting to ignore James’ stony looks and Lily’s hurt expression from across the room.  
  
“See you around then, alright?” Sirius told Remus, clapping him on the shoulder before heading towards the door.   
  
Suddenly, Sirius felt a hand on his shoulder. _James_. He froze, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. “James,” he greeted his best mate, offering a weak smile.  
  
“I came round your flat last week, looking for you. Where were you?” James asked accusingly, his brows furrowed.  
  
“I moved,” Sirius replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.  
  
“Of course,” James muttered, nostrils flared. “I’m sure Evelyn required a dwelling more suitable to her _genteel_ sensibilities.”  
  
“We’re married, now. We felt it appropriate to buy a house,” Sirius noted, choosing not to mention that his parents had gifted it to them as a wedding gift.   
  
“So how _is_ your _wife_?” James sneered, arms folded against his chest.  
  
“James,” Sirius said pleadingly, recognizing he was still angry about the incident at the wedding. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I always thought you were better than them. Your family. I guess I was mistaken.”  
  
Sirius winced, remaining silent. He opened his mouth to speak, eager to protest, to tell James everything, but thought better of it, closing his mouth.   
  
He shrugged his shoulders, resigned, and turned on his heel, exiting the room. He made a beeline for the front door, eager to put as much distance between himself and his friends as possible. As he descended the porch steps, he caught sight of a familiar blonde standing at the corner of the block, staring at him and smoking a cigarette. _Evelyn_.  
  
He strode purposefully toward her, his blood again beginning to boil. “What are you doing here?” he huffed, grabbing a hold of her left wrist.  
  
“You wouldn’t tell me what was going on or where you were going so... I followed you,” she replied calmly, exhaling a plume of smoke.  
  
Sirius stood silently for a moment, feeling his stomach drop.  
  
“I saw the Prewett brothers and McKinnon leaving before you,” Evelyn continued, attempting to tug her wrist out of Sirius’ grasp, to no avail.  
  
“You’re one of Dumbledore’s people, aren’t you? Fighting against you-know-who?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Sirius paled, reaching for his wand. _Should I put her under the Imperius or..._  
  
“I’m not one _them_ , Sirius. You don’t have to worry about me turning you in,” she said calmly, eyeing his wand.  
  
“Let’s go home, Evelyn,” Sirius said sharply, tucking his wand back into his pocket.  
  
“Sirius, I-”  
  
“It’s not safe to discuss this in public. Let’s go.”

* * *

Dumbledore looked up from the letter he was penning as he heard his office door swing open. Alastor Moody strode in, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
“What seems to be troubling you, Alastor?” Dumbledore queried, taking in Moody’s frantic expression.  
  
“ _Black_. I _told_ you he couldn’t be trusted,” he started, gesturing wildly.  
  
Dumbledore nodded politely, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“I saw that Greengrass girl snooping around outside, waiting for him. She saw everyone leaving.”  
  
“I see...” Dumbledore replied, frowning. _Perhaps I underestimated Ms. Greengrass... She always was quite clever._  
  
“You need to get rid of him, Albus. He’s a traitor. I told you he couldn’t be trusted! Regardless of house affiliations, he’s still a _Black_ , a pure-blooded maniac down to the very core!” Moody shouted, banging on Dumbledore’s desk for emphasis.  
  
“I will pay a visit to the newlyweds,” Dumbledore retorted simply, raising a single eyebrow.   
  
“Newlyweds?” Moody growled, confused. “He _married_ her?”  
  
“As of now, Sirius has done everything I have asked of him. He has provided invaluable information and has made great strides in earning the trust of Voldemort’s inner circle. Despite your inclinations towards Sirius, I trust him. Admittedly, Evelyn becoming aware of the Order was not something I had planned for. However, I assure you I am more than capable of handling and rectifying the situation, if need be,” Dumbledore stated calmly, rising from his seat.

* * *

Sirius poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, barely able to keep his hands from shaking. Evelyn watched him from the couch, a tumbler of gin firmly grasped in her right hand. He took a sip, wincing from the burn of liquor pouring down his throat, before joining Evelyn on the couch. “So,” he began, taking another sip of his drink.  
  
“You were seriously thinking about putting me under the Imperius curse,” Evelyn noted, taking a dainty sip of her drink.  
  
Sirius frowned, brow furrowed. “What? No, Of course not.. I..” he replied, struggling to string together words. _How could she know, I didn’t even..._  
  
“Yes you were,” Evelyn retorted simply, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not a half-bad legilimens, you know.”  
  
Sirius laughed, barely able to conceal a grin. “Handy skill... where’d you pick that up?” he asked, genuinely curious.  
  
Evelyn shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “I dated Lucius Malfoy all through school. He wrote the book on being a distant and secretive lover. I’d have never found out all I did about what he was up to if I hadn’t honed that skill.”  
  
“Yet you couldn’t figure out what I was keeping from you, eh?” Sirius smirked.  
  
“I didn’t say I was an expert, Sirius. I couldn’t penetrate your thoughts... You’re a much better occlumens than I am a legilimens,” she noted, swirling the contents of her drink.  
  
Sirius shrugged, nodding. “Thank you, my dear.”  
  
“Did you only marry me to help with your spying?” Evelyn asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
Sirius sighed. “What makes you think I’m a spy?” he queried, eyebrow raised.  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes, tossing back the remainder of her drink. “Please, Sirius. I’m not daft. Why else would you kick your best mate out of your wedding, taking the side of someone you _loathe_ if not for the fact that you were trying to get into the Death Eater’s good graces?”  
  
Sirius smiled, shaking his head. “You were always too clever for your own good, Evie.”  
  
“You didn’t answer the question. Did you only marry me to help with your spying?” Evelyn repeated, her blue eyes locked with his gray ones.   
  
“No. I _wanted_ to marry you, Evelyn. What I said to you on our wedding day was true... I love you. I’ve always been in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. However, I will admit that it was suggested to me that a suitable pure-blooded marriage would be beneficial to my cause.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, her lips pursed. She rose from her seat, empty glass in hand. Sirius watched as she carefully poured herself another glass, a contemplative look on her face. She returned to his side, carefully bringing her glass to her lips, tilting her head back to take a sip. She placed the glass down on the coffee table, licking her lips. Sirius smelled the hint of juniper on her breath. “I suppose I can live with that,” she said finally, offering him a faint smile.   
  
The pair froze, startled, as they heard knocking on their front door. Sirius stared at Evelyn nervously, unsure of how to react.   
  
“You should answer the door,” she whispered, instinctively reaching for her glass.  
  
Sirius nodded, rising to his feet. Wand firmly in hand, he approached the front door, pausing before it. “Yes, who is it?” he called out, wand gripped tightly.  
  
“Sirius, it is Albus Dumbledore. We need to speak, immediately.”  
  
Sirius swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door, opening it. “Won’t you come in?” he asked, gesturing for Dumbledore to enter.  
  
“Thank you, Sirius,” he replied, entering the foyer. “I will need a word with both you and Ms. Green-err Mrs. Black,” he continued, his blue eyes twinkling.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius replied, nodding, leading his former headmaster back into the sitting room, where Evelyn sat nervously, waiting.   
  
“Professor Dumbledore!” Evelyn exclaimed, surprised. She stood, clutching at her glass with a steel grip.   
  
“Good day, Evelyn. Congratulations on your nuptials. It’s my understanding that it was a beautiful wedding,” Dumbledore noted, offering her a warm smile. “Please, have a seat, my dear. I’m afraid there are matters that need to be discussed.”  
  
Sirius lingered by the bar, pouring himself another drink.   
  
“If you would join us, please, Sirius?” Dumbledore asked, taking a seat opposite Evelyn.  
  
Sirius nodded, joining Evelyn on the couch. The three sat in silence for a moment, the only noise the clinking of crystal tumblers against the wood coffee table, as Sirius and Evelyn placed their drinks down.   
  
“How much does she know?” Dumbledore asked, addressing Sirius.  
  
Sirius froze, panic rising in his throat. “I... Ummm...” he stammered, unsure of how to respond.   
  
“I know that he is a member of the resistance,” Evelyn replied calmly, placing her left hand over Sirius’.   
  
Dumbledore nodded, indicating for her to continue.  
  
“And I’m aware that he has been tasked with spying on the Death Eaters. We had only gotten so far as for him to affirm that part of the motivation behind our recent union was to help him earn the trust of the Death Eaters, sir.”  
  
“And what are your feelings in regard to this revelation, Evelyn?” Dumbledore queried, staring intently at her.  
  
“I’m not a Death Eater, sir, nor was I ever. Obviously, I don’t agree with Voldemort’s pure-blooded mania, given I married what he would call a blood-traitor. The very fact that I fraternized with a Gryffindor for years, let alone married him, should suggest that,” she replied coolly, staring him down as well.   
  
“And you understand the risks associated with Sirius’ task, understand what will be expected of you to assist him in keeping his true loyalties hidden?” Dumbledore prompted.  
  
Evelyn nodded, gripping Sirius’ hand harder. “Of course, sir. I would do anything to help Sirius. Whatever either of you need of me, I am at your service.”  
  
“You’re a legilimens,” Dumbledore noted, offering Evelyn a smile. “Quite impressive.”  
  
Evelyn beamed, shrugging her shoulders. “I am but... How did you know?”  
  
“I felt you trying to read my thoughts when I first arrived,” Dumbledore replied casually, continuing to grin. “Are any of your acquaintances aware of your skill, Evelyn?” he asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“No,” Evelyn replied, shaking her head. “Only Sirius.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head. “Your skill would be of great use to our cause, Evelyn, should you be willing to assist.”  
  
“Of course,” Evelyn agreed, nodding eagerly.   
  
“In the interim of Sirius securing a position within Voldemort’s inner circle, it would be of great help to our cause were you to use your legilimency skills to find out details of Death Eater activity that Sirius may not yet be privy to... You and Mr. Malfoy remained quite close after his marriage to Narcissa if I am not mistaken... Perhaps he could be of great use in providing you information,” Dumbledore suggested, hands folded in his lap.  
  
Sirius clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “I don’t want her to-”  
  
“Sirius,” Evelyn interrupted, squeezing his hand. “I want to help you, to help your cause. Please, don’t worry. I wouldn’t... I’d never... I can get the information from him without sleeping with him, for chrissakes,” she continued, shaking her head.  
  
Sirius nodded tersely, still gritting his teeth. “I just don’t like the idea of him being around you,” he muttered, staring down at the ground. “I know how he feels about you.”  
  
Evelyn sighed, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Sirius. You needn’t worry. You’re the only one for me. Please, let me help you.”  
  
“Okay,” Sirius agreed, resigned. “Okay.”  
  
“I’m glad that this is all sorted out,” Dumbledore noted, rising to his feet. “Thank you for your time, the both of you.”  
  
“Of course,” the pair replied in unison, nodding their heads.  
  
“I will be in contact with the both of you soon. Sirius will fill you in on how to go about contacting me to provide any intel you may come upon in your endeavors,” Dumbledore continued, nodding expectantly at Sirius.  
  
“Good day,” Dumbledore noted, before promptly disapparating. 


	9. Chapter 9

At Regulus’ urging, Sirius had joined his brother and his friends for a night out at the pub. He took a sip of his drink, silently observing the group that had gathered at their table. _Yaxley. Wilkes. Avery. Mulciber. Rosier. Snivellus_. Sirius scrunched his nose in distaste, observing the greasy-haired enemy of his youth.  
  
“I’m glad you decided to join us, Sirius,” Regulus noted happily, taking a sip of his mead.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, taking a sip of his own glass of firewhiskey. “Quite glad to have a break from dull married life.”  
  
“I somehow doubt that married life with _Evelyn Greengrass_ could ever be described as dull,” Evan Rosier noted, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
“That’s Evelyn _Black_ , now, Rosier,” Sirius noted, giving him a pointed look. “Though, I do admit, it’s hardly dull, with her for a wife.”  
  
Rosier nodded in response, turning his attention back to the other end of the table. Mulciber and Snape were deep in the throes of a debate.   
  
“While I daresay your spells are _effective_ , Mulciber, your wand work is sloppy,” Snivellus noted, giving his fellow Death Eater a pompous look.  
  
“Oi, Snape. I’m a better duelist than _you_ ,” Rosier interrupted, joining the conversation.  
  
“You couldn’t hex your way out of a paper bag, Rosier,” Yaxley noted, taking a sip of his drink. “ _I_ on the other hand, am easily the best duelist of my year.”  
  
Sirius watched on as the group bickered, smirking, but offering no input to their conversation aside from a single raised eyebrow and a haughty grin. He took a sip of his drink, content to listen to the group of men, Death Eaters, argue over who was the most skilled duelist. _Pity I’m better than the lot of them._  
  
“Sirius,” Wilkes said suddenly, breaking Sirius’ train of thought.  
  
“Hmm?” he retorted, taking another sip of his firewhiskey.  
  
“You were something of an expert duelist during our Hogwarts days, weren’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, shrugging.  
  
“Yet you didn’t feel compelled to join our conversation over who is the best duelist?” Yaxley asked, turning his attention to him.  
  
Again, Sirius shrugged. “I don’t feel the need to brag about something I know I’m better at,” he replied, reaching for his drink. He drained the contents of his glass, slamming the empty tumbler onto the table.  
  
“I find that hard to believe,” Snape noted, offering Sirius a nasty scowl.  
  
“Oh I think you know that best of all, don’t you?” Sirius retorted, silently challenging Snape to disagree.  
  
“Well then, why don’t you prove it? What do you say to a friendly duel?” Snape asked, standing abruptly.   
  
Sirius stood as well, examining the facial expression of his old enemy. Snape’s nostrils were flared, his lips twisted into an angry scowl. _Nothing friendly about this challenge._  
  
“If you insist,” Sirius replied, offering Snape a withering look. _More than happy to embarrass you in front of your mates, yet again, Snivellus._  
  
In a matter of seconds, patrons of the pub cleared the room, Yaxley and Mulciber clearing the center of the room of furniture with a flick of their wands.  
  
Sirius approached the cleared space, waiting for Snape to join him. The pair stood a meter apart, eyeing each other anxiously.   
  
“Well,” Sirius started, smirking at his opponent. “Shall we begin?”  
  
Snape glared at him, nostrils still flared in obvious dislike.  
  
Sirius bowed, following the expected etiquette of a duel. Snape offered Sirius a curt nod, and nothing more.  
  
Barely a second past before Snape bellowed out his first spell, Sectumsempra, his wand pointing directly at Sirius’ chest.  
  
“Protego,” Sirius called out immediately, pointing his own wand at Snape.   
  
The spell immediately turned back on it’s caster, slashing Snape’s middle.  
  
Not wasting a second, Sirius again pointed at Snape, silently casting _levicorpus_.  
  
Sirius approached Snape, smirking at his opponent, so easily defeated. “Just like old times eh, _Snivellus_?”  
  
Snape stared up at Sirius, eyes burning with hatred. Wand still clutched in his right hand, he opened his mouth, “Cruci-”  
  
“Petrificus totalus,” Sirius interrupted, almost as an afterthought, his wand arm hanging loosely at his side.  
  
He paused a moment, appreciating the applause erupting from the room. Still grinning, he muttered _vulnera sanentur_ , ceasing the bleeding of his opponent.  
  
“I assume one of you can take it from here?” he asked, turning to face the group of Death Eaters watching on.   
  
Avery nodded, performing the necessary spells to put Snape upright and regain his movement.  
  
Snape stalked toward him immediately, grabbing Sirius by his collar. “How typical,” he sneered, spittle forming in the corner of his mouth. “Like always, Sirius Black has no problem fighting dirty.”  
  
Sirius shoved Snape aside, rolling his eyes. “Says the man who would perform an unforgivable in a last ditch effort to win a _friendly_ duel. Pathetic,” he spat, shaking his head dismissively.   
  
Snape offered him a hateful look, his hands twitching in anger. “So you’re all impressed with the blood-traitor _Black’s_ so-called skills?” he shouted, turning his attention to the surrounding death eaters, still watching the course of events with a mixture of awe and apprehension. “Very well, then. I’ve grown tired of your inflating his already overblown ego. Good night,” he snapped, apparating with a turn of his heel.  
  
“I didn’t know you could do wandless magic,” Regulus noted, approaching his brother.  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, shrugging. “It’s nothing, really.”  
  
“Still, not many are capable of that,” Rosier noted, eyeing Sirius cautiously, as if afraid he may suddenly attack him.  
  
“I _am_ a Black,” Sirius noted dismissively.  
  
“It’s a lovely night for a broom ride over London, don’t you think?” Avery said suddenly, drawing the attention of the room.  
  
The group collectively muttered notes of agreement, save for Sirius, who eyed the group warily.   
  
“Join us, won’t you Sirius?” Regulus asked expectantly.  
  
Sirius shrugged, nodding in response. “Alright.”

* * *

“Thank you for meeting me,” Evelyn said lightly, clinking her glass to Lucius’.  
  
“Of course,” Malfoy replied, smiling. “Anything to help such a noble cause.”  
  
Evelyn had written Lucius asking him to meet her at the Three Broomsticks, under the pretense of planning a charity event for St. Mungo’s. She had made small talk with him for the first three drinks, discussing possible venues for holding a gala, loosening Lucius’ mind before she began probing him for information.  
  
“Remember how we used to sneak off from school to come here and have drinks?” Evelyn asked, smiling brightly.  
  
“I do,” Lucius agreed, smiling as well. “And you always complained that the gin-”  
  
“Didn’t taste nearly as good as it did at the Leaky Cauldron!” Evelyn interrupted, finishing Lucius’ statement.   
  
The pair laughed, each vividly recalling their late night excursions into the small village.  
  
“I miss you, Evie,” Lucius sighed, taking a deep sip of his firewhiskey.   
  
“What have you been up to lately, Lucius?” Evelyn asked, smiling warmly at him. “Still busy as ever?”  
  
“I’ve actually been tasked with a rather important mission,” Lucius divulged, grinning widely.   
  
“Oh?” Evelyn asked, smiling encouragingly.  
  
“ _He_ has entrusted me with the task of selecting the best and brightest of the soon to graduate Slytherins to join us,” he noted, offering Evelyn a proud smirk.  
  
“And how have you been doing that?” Evelyn asked, leaning closer to him.  
  
“I regularly visit the castle, under the pretense of visiting Slughorn,” Lucius began, taking a sip of his drink. “Everyone knows what is coming. They come to me, eager to join. Begging, even. Those in our house are eager to join and serve our Lord,” he continued, smiling at Evelyn. He placed his hand over hers, giving her a pointed look.  
  
She smiled back, removing his hand from hers. _He must mistake my pointed questions for enthusiasm towards the cause._  
  
“What do you mean by, what is coming?” she asked, watching as Lucius swayed slightly in his chair. _He’s quite drunk. It should be safe to probe, now._  
  
“His rise to power is imminent, Evie. It’s only a matter of time,” he began, slurring his words slightly.  
  
Silently, Evelyn muttered _legilimens_ , tuning out Lucius’ drunken banter to focus on his inner thoughts.  
  
Probing his mind is quite easy, she finds, as he is dangerously vulnerable to her invading his thoughts, too drunk and lustful toward her to guard his mind.  
  
_Giants. Werewolves. He’s recruiting dark creatures. Infiltrating the Ministry. Inferi._  
  
She stood abruptly, satisfied with the information gathered. “It’s getting late,” she noted, smiling apologetically. “Sirius will be worried if I don’t get home soon. It’s been lovely catching up, Lucius. Let’s do this again, sometime.”

* * *

Sirius followed behind his brother as the group of Death Eaters flew over London, high enough to be out of eyesight of any suspicious muggle. The cold fall air cut through to Sirius’ bones, making him shiver. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, one hand clutched to the broomstick, ensuring he remained steady. Suddenly, Yaxley descended some, turning his head to usher the others to follow suit. The group followed, descending to only some meters above the ground, where a group of wizards were gathered in the street, apparently celebrating a quidditch victory.  
  
“I told you Falmouth would crush Puddlemere,” a drunken voice called out.  
  
Sirius watched as the Death Eaters drew their hoods up, eyeing one another expectantly. Without warning, Mulciber flew down closer to the ground, wand pointed at random, bellowing out “Crucio!”  
  
Yaxley followed suit, pointing at another target and muttering an incantation and sending a young man careening up into the air, limbs flailing about.   
  
The others joined in, each picking a victim, or several, sending hexes and curses their way. Sirius watched on, horrified, a cold rush of fear coursing through his veins.  
  
Sirius froze, feeling eyes watching him. He carefully turning his head, watching Mulciber watching him carefully, his eyes locked on him. Taking a deep breath, Sirius descended as well, mustering up all the anger and disgust he could towards the Death Eaters, their actions, their leader. He pointed his wand at random, eyeing his target and shouting with all his might, “Crucio!”

* * *

“Hey,” Evelyn said softly, placing a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“It’s late... what time did you get in?”  
  
Sirius shrugged, mumbling something incoherent.  
  
“Rough night?” she asked, joining him on the couch.   
  
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sirius muttered, rubbing his temples. “Spying is one thing, but this... torturing people? I just don’t know, Evie.”  
  
“Come here,” she said softly, motioning for him to rest his head on her chest, effectively leaning on her.  
  
Sirius obliged, feeling a jolt of relief as she began stroking the back of his head, smoothing his hair down. “Tell me what happened,” she coaxed, still gently stroking his hair.  
  
“We were out drinking. I dueled Snivellus... That was alright. I didn’t mind that because it meant hurting one of _them_. Especially since it was _him_. But then...” he trailed off, sighing heavily.  
  
“Then?” she pressed, lightly kissing the nape of his neck.  
  
“We flew out near the outskirts of London, where there’s a relatively small population of wizards living. Mud-bloods, mostly. They decided it’d be fun to cause some trouble amongst the mud-bloods. They were torturing them, using the Cruciatus and sending some of them hurtling up into the air and then crashing back down to the ground. And all I could do was watch on, horrified. Mulciber noticed me erm, not participating and shot Yaxley a look, so I had no choice but to...” he trailed off, barely concealing a sob.  
  
Evelyn sighed, resuming stroking his hair. “Did you, you know?” she asked, already certain of his response, given his current state.  
  
“Yeah,” he replied, lifting his head up. He stared at her for a moment, grabbing a hold of her right hand and loosely entwining his fingers with hers.  
  
“I think it was something of a test, you know?” he started, frowning. “To see if I’m capable of that sort of magic...” he paused, silent for a moment.  
  
“You have to really _want_ to hurt, to maim, to _kill_ to effectively perform an unforgivable, you know?”  
  
Evelyn nodded, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“And I was able to... so what does that say about me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.   
  
“It says nothing about you, Sirius,” Evelyn retorted, pursing her lips firmly together.  
  
He looked at her helplessly, his lower lip wavering. “But.. I...”  
  
“You’re a powerful wizard. Obviously, if anyone would be able to perform such magic, it would be you. You were doing what was necessary, under orders. Dumbledore needs you to infiltrate their ranks... Anything you must do to secure a place amongst them is for the good of the cause.”  
  
Sirius nodded, eyes lowered to the ground, refusing to meet her gaze.  
  
“It’s not _you_ , Sirius. _You’re_ not evil, because you performed dark magic. Don’t lose sight of that. You’re just doing your job.”  
  
“Okay,” Sirius agreed dully, at last meeting her eyes. “I know that... It’s just harder than I thought it would be, doing all of this,” he continued, shrugging.  
  
“You’re doing a brilliant job, Siri,” she said calmly, offering him a soft kiss on the lips.

* * *

Sirius woke the next morning to Evelyn shaking him awake.  
  
“Evie, I’m tired,” he whined, struggling to pull the covers back over his head.  
  
“Regulus is here. He said the matter was urgent,” she told him, pulling the covers off of him.  
  
The two stared at one another for a moment, eyes locked. “Get dressed, I’ll prepare tea,” she noted, abruptly turning on her heel and leaving the room.  
  
Sirius dressed quickly, shrugging on a pair of slacks and a tee shirt before donning his robes. He descended the stairs quickly, finding his younger brother waiting patiently in the sitting room, cup of tea in hand.  
  
“Sirius,” Regulus greeted him warmly, nodding.  
  
“Regulus,” Sirius replied, taking a seat beside Evelyn. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”  
  
Regulus nodded towards Evelyn for a moment before turning to Sirius.  
  
Sirius nodded, eyebrows raised. “Evelyn, darling, if you would give us a moment?” he asked, shooting his wife a meaningful look.  
  
“Of course,” Evelyn agreed, standing suddenly. She smiled warmly at the pair of brothers before ascending the steps, retreating to the second floor of the house.  
  
“So,” Sirius began, reaching for the cup of tea Evelyn had prepared for him. He took a sip, contemplating his brother.  
  
“The Dark Lord has requested that I summon you to meet with him.”  
  
Sirius nodded, taking a sip of tea, allowing his brother’s words to sink in. “Why would he do that?” he queried, observing his brother from over the rim of his tea cup.  
  
“The Dark Lord has taken a keen interest in you,” Reg elaborated, taking a sip from his own cup.  
  
“Oh?” Sirius retorted, waiting for Regulus to elaborate.  
  
“Yes. As the presumed head of the House of Black, one can only assume that your support is desired. The murmuring amongst his followers of your skill in both duelling and healing have also piqued his interest.”  
  
Sirius nodded, satisfied with his brother’s explanation. “And when does he wish to arrange a meeting?”  
  
Regulus chucked, shaking his head in bemusement. “Brother. The Dark Lord doesn’t schedule things at _your_ convenience. He has summoned you. So we must go, _immediately_.”

* * *

Sirius stood before the Dark Lord, Voldemort, examining him curiously. _So this is the feared Lord Voldemort_. He was a tall man who he supposed had once been quite handsome, though his features had become somewhat sinister, for lack of a better word. “Sirius Black,” the man spoke, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“It is my understanding that you wished to meet with me, sir?” Sirius asked, bowing his head slightly in respect.   
  
Voldemort nodded, his eyes locked on Sirius’. “I have heard a great deal of you from my loyal followers,” he began, his voice rich, inviting.  
  
Sirius nodded, waiting for the man to continue.  
  
“They have noted that you are quite skilled as a healer and as a duelist.”  
  
“That would be correct, sir.”  
  
Voldemort grinned, a sinister smile planted on his lips. “I will be the judge of that. Yaxley!” he yelled, turning his head.  
  
Yaxley appeared from the doorway, bowing towards his master. “Yes, my lord,” he said, eyes focused on the ground.   
  
“You shall duel Sirius Black,” he commanded, his tone firm.  
  
The two faced one another, Yaxley grinning madly at Sirius. At Voldemort’s nod, the two bowed.   
  
Yaxley jumped into action, immediately yelling out _Crucio_ , only to have the curse deflected, Sirius having conjured a shielding charm silently. The two exchanged a varying set of curses and spells, Sirius dodging and deflecting his opponent’s attacks easily. Satisfied that he had proven his skill well enough, Sirius pointed his wand at Yaxley, silently muttering _Crucio_. He watched, in sick satisfaction, as Yaxley fell to his knees, writhing in pain, begging for mercy.  
  
“Finite incantatum,” Voldemort shouted, bringing the duel to an end.  
  
“You may go,” Voldemort said cruelly, waving dismissively towards Yaxley.  
  
Sirius watched as Yaxley shuffled out of the room, waiting for Voldemort to address him.  
  
“My followers were not mistaken in speaking of your prowess,” Voldemort noted, motioning for Sirius to take a seat.  
  
Sirius did as requested, watching Voldemort expectantly. “There is a certain difficultly to being extraordinary, isn’t there?” he said suddenly, watching Sirius expectantly.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to speak, uncertain of how to respond. “Yes... I suppose,” he agreed, nodding his head.  
  
“You are well aware of your talents, are you not, Sirius?” Voldemort queried.  
  
“Yes,” Sirius agreed, again nodding.  
  
“You understand my struggle, then. The struggle of being extraordinary, of being held back for a supposed greater good?”  
  
Sirius nodded, captivated by Voldemort’s bravado. “Yes, Merlin YES.”  
  
“Why should we stand idly by when _we_ , those with the greatest of skill and talent, deserve to rule?” Voldemort asked, offering Sirius a bloodthirsty grin  
  
. Sirius nodded, silently urging the man to continue.  
  
“Your talents could be of much use to me, to my followers Sirius. Should you choose to join me, your talents could flourish. Why should those of us, who by noble birth alone, have the right to rule, be held under the thumb of some foolish blood-traitors who wish to put mud-bloods in positions of authority in our world?”  
  
Sirius nodded, entranced by the charisma of the man before him, unable to help being drawn to his every word.   
  
“Will you join us, Sirius Black, heir apparent to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?”  
  
Sirius nodded, gaze focused intently on the man before him. _You’re simply following orders. You’re simply following orders_. “It would be my honor to serve you, _my lord._ ”


	10. Chapter 10

Sirius and Evelyn strode through the Hogwarts grounds, hand in hand. The pair had been summoned by Dumbledore to meet with him to discuss their findings. Sirius sighed contently, squeezing Evelyn’s hand.  
  
“You really miss it here, don’t you?” she asked, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his face.  
  
“This was the first place I ever felt at home,” Sirius replied, smiling fondly. “Hogwarts will _always_ be home.”  
  
Evelyn grinned, pulling him into an embrace. “There really _is_ something special about here, isn’t there?”she asked, kissing him on the tip of the nose.   
  
“Come on, we should get going. Don’t want to be late for our super important meeting.”

* * *

“Sirius, Evelyn. Have a seat, won’t you?” Dumbledore greeted the couple, as they entered his office.  
  
The couple obeyed, lowering themselves into the seats opposite Dumbledore’s desk.  
  
“You took my seat!” Sirius exclaimed, turning to Evelyn, accusingly.  
  
“You _would_ be familiar with this chair, considering all the mischief you got up to during your time here,” Evelyn laughed, leaning over to kiss him softly on the lips.   
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat, folding his hands on his desk. “You said that you had some information for the Order, Ms. Green- my apologies, Mrs. _Black_. It will take me some time to grow accustomed to your new surname,” he noted, eyeing Evelyn expectantly.  
  
Evelyn nodded, crossing one slim leg over the other. “I met with Lucius as you suggested... _He’s_ recruiting.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded, silently urging her to continue.  
  
“Lucius been coming here, to Hogwarts, to recruit soon to be graduating Slytherins,” she continued, running her fingers nervously through her hair.  
  
“That is quite disturbing... but how has he been recruiting here?” Dumbledore questioned, frowning.  
  
“He’s been coming under the guise of visiting Slughorn... For all we know, Slughorn is probably unwittingly providing him with student’s class rankings, to assist in selecting who to recruit.”  
  
“I will have to speak with Professor Slughorn about this matter,” Dumbledore noted, still frowning.  
  
“That’s not even the worst part... He’s recruiting _dark creatures_.”  
  
Dumbledore observed her a moment, a single eyebrow raised. “Oh?”  
  
Evelyn nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “He’s met with Fenrir Greyback, in hopes of recruiting the werewolves to fight on his side. It seems they find Voldemort’s offer quite appealing. He’s recruiting the giants. And there’s been word of him using _Inferi_. I mean... if her were to do so...” she paused, shuddering at the very thought.   
  
“Thank you, Evelyn. This information will be of great use to us. You’ve done well,” Dumbledore noted, beaming at her.   
  
“And you, Sirius?” he noted, glancing towards him.  
  
Sirius sighed, pulling at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I went out with Reg and some Death Eaters. I dueled Snape and won, which seemed to impress them all. Then, we took a broom ride over London and... they decided to torture some mudbl- err mugleborn wizards. I didn’t join in at first, but Mulciber noticed, so I had no choice but to join in... I used an unforgivable on one of the muggleborns.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“The next morning, Voldemort summoned me to meet with him.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased.  
  
“He wanted to see for himself what the other Death Eaters have said about me... about my skills in duelling. So he made me duel Yaxley.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“I won. I performed the Cruciatus on him... had him begging for mercy,” Sirius continued, the memory of the event still fresh in his mind.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, apparently unperturbed by his confession.  
  
“He asked me to join him, to join his cause,” Sirius concluded, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“You have done very well, Sirius. That you have already piqued Voldemort’s attention is particularly impressive. Having an intimate knowledge of his thoughts, his plans and whereabouts will be invaluable to us,” Dumbledore noted, offering Sirius a warm smile.  
  
“However, given that you are now on the cusp of being invited into his inner circle, I will have to request that you no longer attend Order meetings.”  
  
Sirius’ jaw dropped, aghast. “But... you only _just_ let me start attending again. Why?” he protested, an accusing tone to his voice.  
  
“It is far too risky. If Voldemort is interested in you joining him, you will be scrutinized even more greatly than before. From this point on, you must be completely dissociated with the Order... even the slightest implication of your involvement could compromise your entire mission.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Sirius,” Dumbledore interrupted brusquely, his blue eyes gazing furiously towards him, “I have to insist. For all intents and purposes, you are no longer a member of the Order. At least not officially.”  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but paused, feeling Evelyn’s fingers entwine with his own. “Siri, calm down. He’s only looking out for your safety... for ours,” she whispered, squeezing his hand tightly.  
  
“I don’t know if I can do this, all of this,” Sirius mumbled, staring down at the carpet.  
  
“May I remind you, Sirius, you signed up for this. You were aware of all of the risks and sacrifices involved in completing this assignment,” Dumbledore noted coldly, frowning at him.   
  
“I also must note the importance of not speaking with your friends, Sirius. Now that you’ve been accepted amongst Voldemort’s inner circle, you must completely sever ties with James and the others. As I told you to do _months ago_ ,” he continued sternly, once again folding his hands on his desk.  
  
“Well that shouldn’t be a problem, seeing as none of them are speaking to me, anyway,” Sirius noted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.   
  
“I would like to request that both of you continue your work, and try your best to secure any information that you can,” Dumbledore noted, ignoring Sirius’ comment.   
  
“Sirius, you must continue to work your way into the inner circle, and secure yourself a place within it. You have done very well so far... you must not do anything to hinder your progress,” he noted, turning to face Sirius.  
  
Sirius nodded. “Yes sir.”  
  
“When either of you have any news for me, write me as you have prior, and I will arrange time for a meeting,” Dumbledore noted, scrutinizing the pair.  
  
“Of course, sir. We will,” Sirius and Evelyn replied in unison, rising to their feet.  
  
“Until next time,” Dumbledore noted, offering the pair a wave in farewell as they made their way towards the door.

* * *

“Professor?”  
  
Dumbledore looked up from his work. “What can I help you with, Minerva?” he queried, offering his longtime colleague an easy smile.  
  
“I just saw Sirius Black leaving the grounds with Evelyn Greengrass... what in heavens name was _he_ doing with _her_?” she queried, taking a seat.  
  
“Evelyn Black, Minerva. The pair have wed,” Dumbledore elaborated, his eyes twinkling.  
  
Minerva eyed him, perplexed, a single brow raised.  
  
“He married... I don’t understand, I....” she frowned, struggling to piece her thoughts together.  
  
“Could I offer you a brandy, Minerva?” Dumbledore asked, reaching for the decanter kept in his bottom drawer.  
  
“Please,” she retorted, her lips still pursed, deep in thought.  
  
Carefully, Dumbledore poured two glasses of the amber liquid, placing one before Minerva.  
  
She smiled, silently thanking him, before taking a quick sip.  
  
“I’m just surprised that he would return to his parent’s world, by marrying a girl like her, given his horrible childhood,” Minerva lamented, frowning.  
  
Dumbledore observed her a moment, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“Oh don’t play the fool, Albus. You know as well as I what sort of treatment he received at the Black residence...”  
  
“Though he hid it quite well,” Dumbledore noted, taking a sip of his own drink.  
  
“That he did,” Minerva agreed, shaking her head. “Though still waters run deep. Every once in a while, you could catch a glimpse of what he kept hidden under that facade of his...” she trailed off, reaching for her glass of brandy.  
  
“So he married her,” she mused, swirling the liquid. “He always was quite fond of her. But still... It doesn’t quite make sense.”  
  
“Sirius is spying for the Order, Minerva.”  
  
Minerva’s eyes widened, in realization. “Of course, given his background and skills, he _does_ make the obvious choice for a spy... But still, Albus. Are you sure it was wise?”  
  
“He’s done a fine job, thus far. He’s succeeded in earning the trust of Voldemort’s inner circle. He’s doing important work for the Order,” Dumbledore insisted, brushing Minerva’s concern aside.  
  
She frowned, returning her glass to his desk. “Still, given his past... I can only imagine that being around _those people_ is effecting him.”  
  
“He is an adult, Minerva. He agreed to take on this mission. Besides, he has Evelyn to lean on, should the stresses of the mission become too much for him.” He paused a moment, smiling lightly. “I must admit, they seem good for each other. She’s very sweet to him... they obviously care a great deal for one another.”  
  
Minerva smiled, feeling a sense of relief.  
  
“In fact, his only concern when taking this assignment was _her_. His sole condition was that Evelyn be protected,” Dumbledore noted.  
  
“Typical of him. You know how he is, Albus... loyal to a fault. What worries me is his self-destructive streak... You know all too well that he can be far too rash when it comes to himself, has no qualms putting himself into harms way when he’d do anything to keep the ones he loves from doing those very things,” she noted, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.   
  
“Black always was one of your favorite students, Minerva... you worry too much. Sirius is doing a fine job... He’ll be fine.”  
  
Minerva nodded, not meeting Dumbledore’s eyes. “I hope so.”

* * *

“Anyone fancy an evening broom ride about town?” Mulciber queried, grinning wickedly.  
  
Sirius nodded, feeling a bit lightheaded. They had been drinking at the pub for nearly three hours, and he was a bit drunk. _Probably for the best. Makes it easier to just go along with whatever._  
  
“Good man!” Mulciber boomed, slapping Sirius on the back. “Maybe if we’re lucky Sirius here will give us a show. We heard you put Yaxley in his place,” he noted, laughing coldly.  
  
“Maybe you will,” Sirius agreed, swaying slightly as he stood.  
  
Regulus grinned at him, visibly pleased that his friends had at last taken a liking to his older brother.   
  
“ _Snivellus_ didn’t feel like joining us tonight, I see,” Sirius noted, grinning as several of his Death Eater companions snickered at Snape’s unfortunate nickname.  
  
“He’s still got his knickers in a twist over your being better at him than something,” Yaxley noted, rolling his eyes. “Not everyone can be a gracious loser, I s’pose.”  
  
“Can we get on with it, lads?” Avery complained, grabbing a hold of his broom. “I’m in the mood for a fight tonight.”  
  
Sirius nodded in agreement as he buttoned his cloak, grabbing his broom. _Me too, Avery. I’m in the mood to destroy someone._  
  
The group flew out towards the outskirts of London, deciding to circle a small wizarding village right outside the city proper. They scanned the streets, in search of any signs of life out and about.  
  
“Oi, look what we have here,” Yaxley noted, coming to a halt.   
  
Sirius peered down, curious as to what had drawn Yaxley’s attention. Below them, a group of wizards was drunkenly congregating in the streets, cheering about something. Sirius flew down a bit lower, to get a better view. He frowned as he saw the banners some of the wizards were holding; they were celebrating a win of some muggle football club.  
  
“Look at them,” Avery laughed, joining Sirius at his side. “Filthy blood-traitors. Supporting some muggle trash... It’s a disgrace.”  
  
“Hmpf,” Sirius muttered, pulling his hood up.   
  
“Shall we, lads?” Mulciber called out, gathering the groups attention.  
  
“Finally,” Avery muttered, descending quickly towards the mulling crowd.  
  
“Crucio!” Sirius heard him cry out, as the other members of his party began to call out attacks, as well.   
  
“Stupefy!” A voice called out from the ground, stopping Avery in his tracks.  
  
“Looks like we’ve got a livelier bunch,” Mulciber noted, flying past Sirius.   
  
“Good,” Sirius smirked, drawing his wand. “I prefer a challenge.”  
  
Sirius flew closer to the congregation in the street, silently casting a silencing spell on several of the men. He laughed, bemused, as they tried to cast a spell in retaliation, with no luck. He ascended a bit higher, casing the grounds, watching as his companions continued their attack. He watched as Yaxley and Mulciber performed the Cruciatus, noting that he was capable of casting a much stronger curse than they could.   
  
“Sectumsempra,” Regulus called out, pointing at one of the men in the crowd, shooting his brother a grin.  
  
_Oh, dear brother. Watch a master cast that spell_. Relishing the opportunity to partake in such a skirmish, Sirius flew closer to the crowd still, eyeing the crowd for a victim. He selected a target and drew his wand, making the slashing motions of the spell. He watched, feeling a rush of sick satisfaction as the man fell to his knees, bleeding profusely from his neck to his groin.  
  
“Nice one, _Black_ ,” Avery called out, blocking a spell that one of the men from the ground had cast his way.  
  
Sirius set a shielding charm, silently mocking his companions for not doing the same. He frowned as he noticed a single man in the crowd was specifically targeting him, sending spell after spell after spell his way. _Fool_.  
  
Grinning maliciously, Sirius flew towards him, pointing his wand directly at him. “Crucio!” As he flew a distance away, he maintained his focus on his target, feeling a strange surge of satisfaction as the man writhed in pain, screaming out in agony.

* * *

James sat between Lily and Remus, Peter sitting on Remus’ other side. As Dumbledore droned on about the importance of secrecy and laying low while doing work for the Order, James scanned the room, searching for Sirius. He frowned, finding that his friend was nowhere to be seen. This had been the third Order meeting he’d blown off in a row. _Suppose Evelyn must have needed him for some bloody party._ Though he was still cross with Sirius for his behavior at the wedding, he missed his best mate. _I was rather cruel, telling him he’s like his family._ He sighed, running his hands through his unruly black hair. He glanced over at Lily, who offered him a sympathetic smile. She was well aware that James was regretful of his actions, and missed Sirius terribly, though he was too proud to admit it.  
  
“I have one additional announcement, before I bid you all farewell,” Dumbledore announced, grabbing James’ attention.  
  
“Sirius Black is no longer involved with the Order, in any way, shape, or form. No one is to broach the topic with him, and it is recommended that you avoid interacting with him at all,” Dumbledore continued, his voice devoid of any emotion.  
  
“ _Black_ ,”Moody growled, shaking his head sardonically. “I knew he’d up and switch sides... I’ve said it from the beginning, that he was no good. Rotten to the core, just like the rest of his stinking family.”  
  
James jumped to his feet, anger coursing through his veins. “You’re wrong!” he yelled, pointing a finger accusingly at Moody.   
  
“Sirius would _never_.... He _hates_ those people, hates his family. He’s against everything Voldemort and his followers stand for. He’d never switch sides,” he continued, feeling his cheeks flush with rage.  
  
“Open your eyes, Potter. He’s not here, is he? He married that pure-blooded princess Greengrass. Went crawling back to his family for his inheritance... Wake up. He’s a liar and a snake. Sirius Black _can not be trusted_ ,” Moody noted harshly, slamming his fist on the back of the chair in front of him for emphasis.   
  
James turned to Dumbledore, frantically searching his expression for an explanation.  
  
“Sir, please... He’s my best mate, I can’t believe he would... You _must_ be wrong....” he begged, his voice cracking.  
  
Lily stood as well, reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently.  
  
“Sir, please. We _know_ Sirius,” she noted, addressing Dumbledore.  
  
“I will not discuss the matter further,” Dumbledore replied coolly, shaking his head. “I did not say that he has switched sides. Simply that he is no longer involved. Leave it at that and leave it alone.” 

* * *

“Are you sure this is where he lives, Prongs?” Remus questioned, pulling his cloak tighter around him. They had been loitering on the block of Sirius and Evelyn’s Chelsea row-home for nearly an hour, and still had not caught sight of him.   
  
“I traced the floo connection, _Moony_. When we floo’d her asking about where he bloody was,” James snapped, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses furiously with the hem of his shirt.   
  
Distraught by Moody’s allegations at the Order meeting, James and his fellow Marauders had taken it upon themselves to check in on Sirius and find out what was _really_ going on with him. They’d floo’d him at home, only to reach Evelyn. She had been polite and friendly, regretfully telling them that he’d gone out with his brother and she wasn’t certain what time he’d return home.   
  
“Let’s just take a walk around the block again. I’m bloody freezing my arse off, just standing here,” Peter complained, his teeth chattering loudly.   
  
“Alright,” James agreed, struggling to keep his temper at bay. _I can’t stand that Moody said that about him. I know Sirius. I just... I need to see him, to know what the hell is going on with him._  
  
As the trio rounded the block yet again, Remus lit a cigarette. “Quite a posh place he’s chosen to live, isn’t it?” he noted dryly, nodding towards the stately architecture of the surrounding row-homes.  
  
“Evelyn picked it, no doubt. She was always dragging him off to muggle bars and clubs in these parts before they wed,” James noted. “Since when do you smoke, Moony?” he queried, eyebrows raised.  
  
Remus shrugged, exhaling a plume of smoke. “I’m more amazed that the two of you _don’t_. You spend enough time around Padfoot, and you’re bound to pick it up... Though I suppose I’m not shocked about you Prongs, mister quidditch,” he noted, shrugging.  
  
“You’re nervous too, eh?” James asked.  
  
“Affirmative. I just... I won’t feel right until we talk to him and find out what’s up with him,” he agreed, sighing heavily.  
  
“You guys, look,” Peter interrupted with a loud whisper. He pointed up the street, to a familiar figure, accompanied by four others.  
  
“Come on,” James said lowly, motioning for the others to join him in ducking behind the landing of a nearby home.   
  
Surely enough, Sirius was coming up the street, chatting and laughing with his brother and three eerily familiar figures. James bit his lip, watching as they approached Sirius’ home. _Death Eaters._  
  
James watched as the group exchanged goodbyes, Sirius standing on his front steps lighting a cigarette, as his four companions apparated from sight.  
  
“What is he doing with _them_?” Peter asked, breaking the harrowing silence.  
  
“I dunno,” James muttered, his eyes still glued to Sirius’ smoking figure. “I don’t bloody know. But we’re going to find out.”  
  
Taking a deep breath for courage, James made his way towards Sirius, fingers involuntarily wrapped around his wand. “Sirius,” he called out, getting his friend’s attention.

* * *

Sirius inhaled deeply, staring out at the night sky. He had had a surprisingly nice time out with Regulus and his friends, still feeling the faintest note of a buzz from the drinks he’d had earlier. _As soon as I’m done this fag, I’ll head in and wake Evie. Maybe she’ll be up for a quick shag._  
  
“Sirius,” a familiar voice called out.   
  
Sirius froze, searching for the source of the noise. He watched as James fast approached him, Remus and Peter not far behind.  
  
“Jamie,” he said lightly, offering his friend a light wave. “What brings you round these parts?”  
  
“Looking for you,” James replied, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
“Really?” Sirius queried, raising an eyebrow. “Was your last round of insults not sufficient? Had to come round to my doorstep to tell me more about how I’m just like my family?” he asked, his voice dripping with acid.  
  
“Dumbledore said you left the Order,” Remus noted, standing beside James.  
  
Sirius shrugged, noncommittally.  
  
“What were you doing out with _them_?” James barked out suddenly, arms folded across his chest.  
  
“Who?” Sirius asked, folding his arms as well.  
  
“You know damn well who I mean. What are you doing with _them_ , Sirius? You’re not... You couldn’t... I...” James flailed his arms, exasperated.  
  
“Oh. So is that what this is now? Keeping tabs on me? Are you jealous, Jamie?” Sirius asked incredulously, stomping out the butt of his cigarette.   
  
“So what, it was all well and good when I was alone and had no one and you were all too busy for me, but _now_ you’ve decided I’m good enough to spend time with? I’m sorry that you all can’t deal with the fact that _I’ve_ found something better to fill my time with. My wife. Our friends. Our life. Together.”  
  
“Sirius, please. Just... Tell me your not,” he begged, eyeing Sirius mournfully. “Please. You’re my best mate.”  
  
“I think it’s best if you leave, all of you,” Sirius said coldly, turning to each of his friends in turn.   
  
“You’ve already made it quite clear how you feel about me... If I’m _just_ like my family, then maybe it’s best if you all stay away.”  
  
“Sirius, please-”  
  
“ **GO!** ”  
  
The three exchanged helpless looks before apparating from sight. Sirius sighed, lowering himself to sit on his front steps. _What am I doing?_ He hung his head between his knees, feeling the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. _I hate this._ He sighed, choking back the tears. _Please forgive me for this. James, Petey, Remus... Please. Know I’m only doing this on orders._


	11. Chapter 11

January came, and with it, bone-chilling cold. Christmas had passed by pleasantly; an intimate family breakfast with Evelyn’s parents followed by an obligatory appearance at the Black family Christmas dinner. Sirius had felt a pang of regret, this being the first Christmas holiday in years that he had not spent with the Potters, but he carried on, nonetheless. Over the course of the past two months, Sirius had garnered a sort of begrudging respect amongst the Death Eaters. Admittedly, some (particularly Lucius and Snape) regarded him with malicious dislike, every word uttered to him dripping with suspicion and distrust. Still, through his brother’s influence, he had earned the trust of some members. He had come to be included in some Death Eater activity, particularly in spontaneous attacks on wizarding villages occupied by half-bloods. In such skirmishes, he had proven his worth through his quick reflexes and vast knowledge of spells. He’d also proven invaluable due to his skill in healing. _Thank heavens I got so much practice healing up Moony and the lads after full moons_. However, he had not yet been fully embraced into Voldemort’s inner circle, much to his frustration.  
  
“I don’t know what to do, Evie,” he whined, sipping his tea.  
  
“About what?” Evelyn asked, peering at him over her own cup.  
  
“I’ve been hanging around with them for _months_ now, taking part in their little missions, and I still haven’t gotten any closer to fully infiltrating their ranks.”  
  
“You’ve done extraordinarily well thus far, given the circumstances. Give it time,” Evelyn said calmly, taking a sip of her tea.  
  
“I don’t have _time_ , Evelyn. People are dying every day. I need to get in closer so I can help bring this war to an end!”  
  
“I’m just saying. You’re doing the best you can. _We’re_ doing the best we can.”  
  
“I’m not saying that you aren’t helping, Evie. You’ve been amazing, using your skill to help spy for the Order.”  
  
“I know that, Sirius,” Evelyn replied curtly, rolling her eyes. “What I meant is you’re doing the best you can, and there’s no sense in beating yourself up about it.”  
  
“I just don’t know what more I could do to get them to trust me,” Sirius noted, frowning.  
  
“Hmmm...” Evelyn mumbled, head tilted in thought. “Maybe you could provide them with some sort of information about the Order... _that_ would certainly be impressive to Voldemort.”  
  
Sirius looked up at her, a mixture of surprise and intrigue on his face.  
  
“Not real information, mind you,” she noted, taking in Sirius’ horrified expression. “Just something made up that you could have Dumbledore back up, so that if you got Voldemort to stumble upon it, he’d believe he had some sort of intimate knowledge about the Order... Lucius has said that they’ve had abysmal luck in trying to gain any intel about Dumbledore and the Order. I think he’d jump at the opportunity to get some insider knowledge.”  
  
“Evelyn, you’re bloody brilliant,” Sirius cried, jumping up and rushing to his wife’s side, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
She laughed, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

* * *

“I have a favor to request, sir.”  
  
Dumbledore peered across his desk at Sirius, eyeing him curiously. “Go on, my boy.”  
  
Sirius nodded, fidgeting a bit in his seat. He felt a bubble of anxiety in his chest, nervous over the request he was about to make. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps I need to offer a bit more to Voldemort in order to move forward with the mission,” he started, tugging nervously at a strand of his hair.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“I mean, I think he trusts me, well enough. Most of the Death Eaters do, save for a few who simply loathe me from school. But um... I think I need to show my value goes beyond just being a skilled duelist and healer.”  
  
“And what do you suggest could do just that?” Dumbledore queried, watching Sirius intently.  
  
Sirius bit his lower lip, nearly drawing blood. “I thought perhaps I could provide him with information about the Order...” he paused, noting Dumbledore’s horrified expression, then shook his head, “No, no what I mean was with fake information. Like creating a set up that I could inform Voldemort about and then have him send his cronies out to interfere.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“I was hoping that you could arrange to have a pair of Order members travel somewhere under the guise of transporting something... I was thinking perhaps a false memory.”  
  
“A false memory of what?”  
  
“Like have an Order member bottle a false memory about some sort of mission. And we could make it seem like it was being delivered to you or someone else of importance and when Voldemort gets it and sees it, it’ll throw him off track. Like a red herring, you know?” Sirius continued, gesturing with his hands in an effort to verbalize his thoughts.  
  
Dumbledore paused for a moment, stroking his beard. “Yes,” he mused, his piercing blue eyes watching him carefully. “Yes, that will do quite nicely.”

* * *

“Sirius Black,” Voldemort called out, as Sirius entered the room.  
  
“My lord,” Sirius replied obediently, nodding his head in respect.  
  
“You said you had something of great importance to tell me?” he questioned, his eyes scanning him carefully.   
  
Sirius nodded, ignoring the involuntarily chill that ran through him as he felt Lord Voldemort’s beady red-rimmed eyes pierced through his very core.  
  
“I happened upon some interesting information while having a pint down at the Leaky Cauldron,” Sirius began, shrugging his shoulders casually.   
  
He glanced over towards Lucius Malfoy, who was standing in the corner of the room, leering at him with a scathing expression.  
  
“Apparently McKinnon and Longbottom are transporting some sort of object to Dumbledore two days from now, at dusk.”  
  
“You just happened to overhear this, _Black_?” Malfoy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I hardly believe that-”  
  
“Shh,” Voldemort hissed, waving his hand dismissively at Malfoy. “What exactly is it that they have in their possession?” he questioned, staring intently at Sirius.  
  
Sirius bit his lip, feeling the power of Voldemort’s attempts at reading his thoughts. “I’m not sure. They only referred to it as the package. Though if it’s going to Dumbledore, one can assume it must be of some value.”  
  
“My lord, I hardly think that _Black’s_ word should be taken on such a matter. It seems highly suspect that he would just _happen_ upon information about the resistance’s plans,” Malfoy interjected, shooting Sirius a hateful look.  
  
“Malfoy, enough,” Voldemort replied coolly, shooting the blond a scathing look.  
  
He turned his attention to Sirius, who stood waiting, anxiety again beginning to bubble up in his chest. “Where exactly will they be traveling to transport this package, Black?”  
  
“Paddington Station in London... They are to be meeting Alastor Moody there, who is supposed to transport it to Dumbledore,” Sirius replied, tasting copper in his mouth as he drew blood from his cheek.   
  
“Very well,” Voldemort noted, continuing to observe Sirius with a curious stare. “I shall send Avery and Mulciber... We’ll see what comes of this.”  
  
“Thank you, Black,” Voldemort continued, a single eyebrow raised. “You are dismissed.”  
  
Once Sirius had left the room, Malfoy immediately turned to Voldemort. “I don’t trust him,” he spat, his lips twisting into a snarl.  
  
“There is no harm in seeing what comes of this, Lucius. He has thus far proven to be a valuable asset to our cause,” Voldemort replied calmly, pacing the room.  
  
“Still, don’t you think his story is a bit suspect? How could he possibly have just overheard all that?” Malfoy continued, insistent on getting his point across.  
  
“Perhaps you are blinded by your own jealousy, Lucius,” Voldemort noted, pausing to stare into the fireplace.  
  
“What?” Lucius objected.  
  
“I understand that you had a relationship with Sirius’ wife... one that continued even after your own marriage. It’s understandable that you would be mistrusting and hostile towards your former lover’s husband.”  
  
“I’m not... he... It’s not because of that!” Malfoy insisted, waving his arms, exasperated. “He’s _one of them_! I can just feel it... I mean... He ran with that whole crew, all through school. Why suddenly sever ties?”  
  
“Sirius comes from an ancient, well-respected pure-blooded family. Teenage rebellion aside, you can _see_ the talent he possesses, _feel_ the desire for power. We shall see what comes of this information he has provided. And further still, we shall see if he is able to perform _avada kedavra_. That will for certain determine where his loyalties lie.”

* * *

Avery and Mulciber hurriedly bustled into Voldemort’s chambers, a package in hand. “We intercepted them, my lord,” Mulciber announced, offering Voldemort the small brown paper-wrapped box.  
  
“The one, McKinnon, put up a pretty good fight, burnt me pretty bad with a hex,” Avery noted, displaying his burnt arm for evidence.  
  
“The two apparated before we could do much damage, but we got the package,” Mulciber elaborated, waiting expectantly for Voldemort’s response.  
  
“Very good. Thank you,” Voldemort said dismissively, eyes focused on the package.  
  
“Well, are you going to open it?” Avery questioned, staring intently at the package.  
  
Voldemort raised his head to face him, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Would you _honestly_ suggest that I blindly open a package from the enemy, without taking the necessary precautions to ensure that it is not a trap?” he breathed, sneering, exposing sharp teeth.  
  
“N-no, my lord,” Avery stammered, flushing.  
  
The two watched as Voldemort ran his wand over the package, examining it from every angle. At last, he carefully unwrapped the package, deeming it safe. “What’s this?” he noted, lifting a vial containing a shimmery substance from the box.  
  
“Mulciber, bring me my pensieve,” he barked, pointing in the direction it was located.  
  
With shaky hands, Mulciber procured the item, placing it on the desk before him.  
  
The pair stood intently staring as Voldemort emptied the contents of the vial into the pensieve, before lowering his head into it.

* * *

_Alice and Frank Longbottom approached a small cottage, knocking on the door. From behind the door, a raspy voice queried, “Who is it?”_

_“Ma’am, we have been sent by Albus Dumbledore. You and your family are not safe here, and we have been sent to evacuate you,” Frank began, his tone hushed._

_The door opened a crack, revealing a harried looking brunette in her mid-forties. “I’m not leaving here. This is my home. My children are away at school... We can’t just leave,” she noted, fidgeting with her apron._

_“Ma’am, you must. Death Eaters have been prowling your village. Already, they have taken the lives of three families. You are in danger.”_

_She shook her head sadly. “I’m not leaving. So what if I’m no pure-blood. I’ve got magic, same as them. I won’t run. This is my home. I’ll stay and die fighting, if I must.”_

_..._

_Alice knocked on the door of another cottage, shaking from the cool air. The door opened immediately. “Yes?” a young man in his thirties asked, eyeing the pair suspiciously._

_“We’ve been sent by Dumbledore... It’s no longer safe here. We’ve been instructed to transport you to safety,” Frank noted, eyeing the man’s wand suspiciously._

_The man observed him for a few moments, frowning. At last, he nodded. “Come in... I... We have little ones. My wife is afraid... So afraid that he’ll hurt them.”_

_“Of course... We’re going to help you. We have a safe house waiting where you and your family can stay...” Alice noted, offering the man and his wife a reassuring smile._

_..._

_Frank knocked on the door, to no response. Again, he rapped on the door. At last, the door creaked open. A gnarled hand emerged from the crack, wand gripped tightly. “What do you want?” he croaked._

_“We’ve been sent by Dumbledore... Death Eaters have been killing the muggles and half-bloods in your village. It isn’t safe to stay here.”_

_“We’re here to evacuate as many people as possible. We’ve already checked several houses, but some aren’t responding,” Alice added, in a hushed tone._

_“You’ve lived in this village for years, Mr. Hollyoake. We need your help to ensure everyone evacuates. You see what Voldemort has been up to... His Death Eaters have been torching entire villages... These people know you and trust you... Please help us.”_

* * *

Voldemort emerged from the pensieve, smirking.  
  
“What was it, my lord?” Mulciber questioned, eyeing his master breathlessly.  
  
“Summon Black to Little Hangleton graveyard,” he said sharply, nodding towards Mulciber.  
  
“Avery, capture a muggle. Anyone will do. Bring them to the cemetery,” he continued, turning his attention to Avery.  
  
Avery shot him a curious look, eyes shining brightly. “My lord, does this mean...”  
  
“It is time to welcome another into our midst,” Voldemort replied, offering his servant a cruel smile.  
  
Without another word, he apparated to the graveyard. He smirked, wandering past the abandoned tombstones, in search of a particular name. At last, he paused before a familiar name. _Tom Riddle Sr._ He stared hatefully at the stone, spitting on it. Procuring his wand, he held out his left arm, tapping the Dark Mark, to summon the others. 

* * *

Sirius arrived at the graveyard, accompanied by Mulciber. “Where are we, what are we doing here?” he asked, feeling his heart beat quicken.   
  
“Sirius Black,” Voldemort said smoothly, drawing his attention.  
  
Sirius turned his head, struggling to see in the fog of the evening. At last, his vision focused on Voldemort, who stood surrounded by his Death Eaters. “You wished to see me, my lord?” Sirius asked, slowly approaching him.   
  
Regulus and Nott parted from the circle, allowing Sirius entry closer to Voldemort.  
  
“Sirius Orion Black. Son of Orion and Walburga Black. Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black,” Voldemort began, his red-ringed eyes staring him down intently.  
  
“You have proven to be of great service to myself and my dear followers,” he drawled, offering Sirius a cold smile. “Your skills in healing and duelling far exceed those of some of my most loyal servants.”  
  
Sirius smirked as he saw Snape’s lips tighten into a scowl. Malfoy, standing beside him, offered Sirius a cold stare.  
  
“The information you were able to provide me was quite intriguing. In true pitiful fashion, that old fool Dumbledore appears to be mostly concerned with evacuating the _innocent_. I can’t say I’m surprised,” he paused, laughing cruelly.   
  
“Given your service to our cause, I have decided, after careful consideration, that you should join our ranks, provided you offer proof of your allegiance to our cause.”  
  
“How would I do that, my lord?” Sirius questioned, feeling a lump forming in his throat.  
  
“In order to prove your loyalty, you must spill the blood of our enemy,” Voldemort boomed, motioning for Avery to come forward.  
  
“This muggle was found snooping about, interfering with Dolohov's business,” Avery elaborated, shoving the muggle, bound and gagged, to the center of the circle.  
  
Sirius stared, his mouth dry. _I have no choice, do I?_ He struggled to take a breath, maintaining a calm exterior. “It would be an honor, to offer a sacrifice in your name, _my lord_ ,” Sirius said calmly, taking a step forward towards the muggle.   
  
The Death Eaters backed away a few paces, still maintaining a circle, surrounding Sirius and the muggle. Sirius stared at the man, noting that he was still awake. He watched as the man writhed around, struggling to break free. Sirius gripped his wand, clenching his jaw, deep in concentration. He thoughts of his dislike of the Death Eaters, his hatred of Snape, of Malfoy, of everything they stood for. He thought of his anger at Dumbledore for forcing him to abandon his best mates, leaving him to face this trying mission alone. Taking a deep breath, he took another step forward towards the man, wand pointed directly at him. Through clenched teeth, he managed to cry out, “AVADA KEDAVRA,” a stream of green light emanating from his wand. He watched as the man came to a dead still, having been killed instantly. He stood shakily, his thoughts racing as cheering erupted from the surrounding Death Eaters. Someone from the circle cried out ‘morsmorde’ conjuring the dark mark in the sky. Sirius stared up at the figure in the sky, his heart racing. _What have I done? Oh dear Merlin, what have I done..._  
  
He felt a strong grip on his shoulder, grasping his attention. Sirius turned around, facing Voldemort, who eyed him expectantly. “You have done well, Sirius,” he noted, again offering Sirius a cold grin. “Now, if you would roll up the sleeve of your arm, please?” he said calmly, making it apparent with his tone that it was a command and not a question.  
  
Sirius obeyed, shakily rolling up the sleeve of his left arm. He winced as he felt Voldemort’s wand against his skin, branding him with the dark mark.

* * *

Following his receiving the dark mark, Sirius apparated to Hogsmeade, frantic to get in touch with Dumbledore. He quickly visited the post office, sending off a hasty note to his former headmaster, begging him to meet him immediately. Too anxious to face anyone quite yet, he relegated to wandering the streets, toiling in front of the shrieking shack. As he stared at it, thinking fondly of his friends, he felt an owl peck at his ear. He grabbed the parchment tied to its foot, scanning the letter quickly. _Meet at Hog’s Head at 9 sharp._  
  
Satisfied that Dumbledore would be meeting with him shortly, he made his way to the Three Broomsticks, excusing himself to the toilets. He nervously splashed his face with water, overwhelmed with shock. _What am I doing? I took the dark mark... I’m one of them. Oh dear lord, what am I doing? I can’t do this, I can’t do this._ He stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking in his bloodshot eyes and pallid complexion. It only then dawned on him that he had been crying silent tears since he’d left the graveyard, weeping over his loss of... what, exactly? He rolled up his left sleeve, his hands shaking as he struggled to reveal the still-stinging flesh where Voldemort had left his mark. He bit his lip as he caught sight of the black skull with a serpent emerging from it’s mouth. He turned to the toilet as a wave of nausea passed him, leaving him hunched over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach. Shakily, he drew himself to his feet, wiping sick from his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood before the mirror yet again, splashing his face with cool water. _Dumbledore. Dumbledore will fix this. He will know what to do._  
  
He exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the bar, where he immediately ordered two double firewhiskeys.   
  
“Long night?” the barkeep queried, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
“I suppose so,” Sirius agreed, forcing himself to maintain his composure.  
  
He drained the first glass with one gulp, barely tasting it as it burned his throat going down. He slammed the glass down, immediately grabbing the other one, taking a long sip. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He tilted his head back, draining the contents of the glass. _Better head over there. Don’t want to keep him waiting._

* * *

Sirius sat nervously at a table in the Hog’s Head, eyes fixated on the front door. He had chosen a seat in one of the tavern’s particularly dark corners, knowing that privacy was necessary for this impending meeting. Hand trembling, he brought his glass to his lips,wincing as the cheap firewhiskey burned his throat going down. He glanced at his watch, biting his lower lip. They had agreed to meet at nine, and it was nearly half past. _What could be keeping him?_ At last, he caught sight of Dumbledore entering the establishment, forcing himself to remain seated, lest he draw attention to himself. Sirius watched Dumbledore exchange words with the barman, fingers drumming nervously against the table. “Can he just hurry up already?” he muttered under his breath.  
  
At last, he came to join Sirius at the table, taking a seat across from him. “You said you needed to meet with me, Mr. Black?” he asked, blue eyes twinkling.   
  
Sirius nodded, a chill running down his spine. He hated when Dumbledore stared at him like that, with his piercing gaze; it felt as though he was seeing through him to his very core, a thought which shook him considerably. “I... I killed someone. A muggle... They said it was my... initiation...” he trailed off, tugging at the left sleeve of his robe. His forearm ached dully, the mark having been put there mere hours before.   
  
“You have done well so far, Sirius. They have allowed you to join their ranks. They trust you,” Dumbledore remarked, unperturbed by his confession.  
  
“But I... I killed him. An innocent muggle. Doesn’t that... make me as bad as them?” Sirius sputtered, sloshing some of his drink onto himself.  
  
Dumbledore observed him a moment, a single eyebrow raised. “You have done what was required of you for the task you have at hand, Sirius.”  
  
“But you can’t really expect me to just go along with this, can you? Am I supposed to just do what they say? Kill more people if it is asked of me? I don’t think I can do this, sir-”  
  
“When you accepted this mission, I told you that it would be far more dangerous than you could ever imagine. You have succeeded in doing what we need of you; infiltrating their ranks. You can not back down now,” Dumbledore interrupted, his tone stern.  
  
“But sir, I’m not a killer, I-”  
  
“You will do whatever it takes to assist the Order in defeating _Him_ and his followers. Whatever you must do to maintain your position among their ranks, you must do. Every kill is justified for the good of the cause. The greater good far outweighs whatever the costs may be,” Dumbledore continued, standing suddenly.   
  
“Go home to your wife, Sirius,” he instructed. “And remember, it is for the greater good.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sirius stood patiently while Voldemort conversed with Nott about an impending mission. He had been summoned to meet with the dark lord, but had not yet been acknowledged. He stared ahead, ignoring the dark looks Snivellus was shooting him. _Fuck him. Let him stare at me. Bloody wanker._  
  
“Bring Sirius with you. It’ll be a good learning experience for him.”  
  
Sirius looked up upon hearing his name uttered, suddenly aware that he was being spoken about.  
  
“Come on, Black. We need to be going,” Nott addressed him, motioning for Sirius to follow.  
  
Together, the pair exited the premises, Sirius trailing slightly at Nott’s heels. “Where are we going?” Sirius queried, at last daring to speak.  
  
“We’re going to have a little chat with the Minister of Magic,” Nott retorted cheerfully, offering Sirius a sinister grin.   
  
Sirius nodded, uneasy. Nott was some years older than him, and was one of Voldemort’s original followers. _It must be something of importance if he’s sending one of his originals._  
  
“You’re familiar with the Minister, aren’t you, Sirius?” Nott asked, pulling up his hood.  
  
“Yeah... My father knows him quite well... He officiated my wedding,” Sirius agreed, shrugging.  
  
“So it wouldn’t be... _unusual_ for you to be spotted standing around the Ministry then?”   
  
“N-no...”  
  
“Good,” Nott replied, smirking. “You’ll do for an adequate lookout, then.”  
  
Sirius stood in the hallway, gazing down at his watch. Nott had been in the Minister’s office for nearly twenty minutes. He had barely given Sirius any direction, only telling him to set off red sparks should someone attempt to intervene and enter the office. _How long could it take to.... what is he even doing here, anyway?_  
  
“Sirius Black?” a familiar voice called out.   
  
“Ludo! How are you?” Sirius called out in response, offering the man a hearty grin.  
  
“Wonderful, wonderful. Congratulations on nabbing Evelyn. She’s a beautiful woman,” Ludo Bagman noted cheerfully, offering Sirius a congratulatory slap on the back.  
  
“It’s unfortunate you could not join us at the wedding, though I understand duty calls. You’ve had quite the season this year, haven’t you?” Sirius noted.  
  
“Aye. I actually just met with your wife earlier this morning. She’s recruited the help of some of the quidditch teams to help with fundraising for St. Mungo’s.”  
  
“I suppose another gala is eminent, then,” Sirius noted, smiling wryly.   
  
“Indeed it is. I assume you will be there, then?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Excellent. I’ll see you then!”  
  
Sirius waved as Bagman went about on his way, presumably off to meet with the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He’d heard rumors that Bagman’s career was nearing it’s end, and that he’d been trying to take on a position within the Quidditch League Headquarters.   
  
At last, Nott emerged from Minchum’s office, displaying a victorious grin. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he muttered, grabbing Sirius’ arm and dragging him along.  
  
Once outside the Ministry walls, Sirius cleared his throat, daring to speak. “What um... what were we sent here for?” he asked, reaching into his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He fumbled with his lighter, struggling against the harsh London winds to light up.   
  
“ _We_ were not sent here for anything, Black. _I_ was sent to complete an important mission for the dark lord. _You_ were sent as a lookout,” Nott replied smugly, his lips curled into a pompous smirk.  
  
Sirius nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. He exhaled, blowing smoke rings into the cool air.  
  
“You did well enough... did anyone come by while I was in there?” Nott asked, pulling his cloak tighter around him.  
  
“Ludo Bagman... he didn’t pay me any mind, though. Just chattered on about some charity event he’s a part of that Evelyn is chairing. Congratulated me on the wedding. You know,” Sirius replied, shrugging his shoulders dismissively.  
  
Nott snorted, shaking his head. “Of course. No wonder he wanted you to be lookout. No one thought twice seeing the pretty boy Black hanging around the Ministry. You’ll do well enough if you keep your head down and follow orders, kid. Between you and your wife, you’ve got enough charm and influence to keep anyone from suspecting you of any wrongdoings.”

* * *

“I have a favor to ask of you.”  
  
“Oh?” Evelyn asked calmly, bringing her martini glass to her lips. She tilted her head back slightly, grinning as the taste of juniper and vermouth hit her palate.   
  
As usual, Evelyn had met with Lucius for cocktail hour, selecting a favorite muggle bar of hers, not far away from her Chelsea row-home.   
  
“You’ve been named lead chair of the St. Mungo’s Foundation, haven’t you?” Lucius asked, his hand gripping his fine cut crystal tumbler of scotch.  
  
“Why yes, I have, Lucius,” Evelyn agreed, smiling brightly.   
  
After her success with the last gala, the board had elected that she be made lead chair of the foundation. _Probably because I married the heir to the Black fortune_. “We have an incredible event coming up for Valentine’s Day. It’s going to be the highlight of the season, for sure.”  
  
Lucius smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “I would like to request that you nominate Narcissa to join the board,” he said calmly, his steely blue eyes watching her carefully.  
  
Evelyn clenched her jaw, her nose wrinkling in dislike. “Why would she want to join the board?”  
  
“As you know, I’m very busy. As we have yet to have children, Cissy needs something to keep herself busy with. And you seem quite happy with your charity work, Evie. It’d please me to no end to see my girls getting along together.”  
  
“I’m not your girl,” Evelyn retorted, her tone clipped.  
  
She brought her glass to her lips, draining half the contents. Carefully, she dabbed at her rouge-colored lips with a napkin, eyeing Lucius carefully, as if targeting her prey. “If I were to consider rallying support to offer Narcissa a seat on the committee, you would have to offer me something in exchange.”  
  
“Such as?” Lucius asked, leering at her.  
  
“Back off my husband. I know what you’ve been saying about him, Lucius, and frankly, jealousy isn’t becoming on you,” Evelyn retorted snidely, pursing her lips as she once again drew her glass to her lips.   
  
“He’s taken the mark,” Lucius muttered between gritted teeth, grasping his glass with a death grip.   
  
“I’m aware,” Evelyn replied, shrugging. “I know you, Lucius. You and that _awful_ Severus just can’t look past the fact that Sirius was an arrogant wanker when we were in school, can you?” She shook her head, loose blonde curls cascading down her back. “What makes it comical is that had he been sorted into Slytherin, you probably would have gotten on well with him, been the best of friends.”  
  
Lucius rolled his eyes, tossing back the remainder of his drink. “Spare me the lecture, Evelyn. He’s an arrogant arsehole and I don’t trust him. I’m sorry if I think that perhaps...” he lowered his voice, leaning closer to her.   
  
_Oh dear Merlin, he’s totally sloshed._ Evelyn sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose in disgust from the scent of scotch wafting from Lucius’ mouth. “I just worry that he’s using you, Evie. That he only married you to get his inheritance back. I’m sorry... I just worry for you,” he continued, placing a hand over hers.   
  
Evelyn blocked out his voice as he prattled on with his drunken accusations towards Sirius, using the opportunity to search his mind for any useful information.  
  
_Meeting with werewolves. Arguing with Voldemort over Sirius. Conspiring with Snape to figure out what Sirius is up to. A diary entrusted to Lucius by Voldemort. Searching for valuable objects._  
  
“So will you nominate her for the board, Evie?” Lucius asked, pleadingly.  
  
“Will you back off of Sirius some?”  
  
“Evelyn, see reason here, _Black_ is-”  
  
We’re all adults here, can’t we move past the petty quarrels of our youth?” she questioned, nodding to the bartender to bring her another drink.   
  
Lucius grimaced, likewise ordering another drink. “I suppose,” he noted sourly, his brows furrowed together. “Though I wonder, Evelyn, can _you_?”

* * *

“I ran into Ludo Bagman today at the Ministry,” Sirius noted, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
After completing their task at the Ministry, Sirius and Nott had returned to meet with Voldemort, who had shooed Sirius away as Nott relayed details of their mission. He had tried to take the spurn in stride, reminding himself that there were rules to be followed, and that he had to earn a place as a trusted member of Voldemort’s circle. Instead, he had busied himself teaching several Death Eaters some basic healing spells, coaching them on what best healed certain injuries. He had felt particularly pleased having Voldemort give him an approving nod as he demonstrated the spells to his companions. Once the sun had set to dusk, he had set off with Regulus to have dinner with his parents, excusing the absence of his wife. It had been a relatively pleasant meal, Regulus obviously overjoyed by the returning presence of his older brother in his life, once more.   
  
“Did you?” Evelyn asked, pouring herself a drink. “What were you doing over there?”  
  
“A mission with Nott,” he replied, shrugging.  
  
“Ah. So I presume he told you about the next gala?” Evelyn asked, smiling brightly.  
  
“He mentioned that you had recruited several quidditch teams to help with fundraising,” Sirius noted.  
  
“We’ve come up with the most brilliant Valentine’s Day gala, Siri,” she gushed, grinning widely.  
  
Sirius grinned, watching his wife fondly as she lit up with excitement. “So tell me about it.”  
  
“Well, it’ll be a black tie event, naturally. But in addition to the usual dinner and dancing, we’re going to have an auction. Several of the quidditch teams have oh so generously agreed to donate autographed merchandise to put up for auction, as well as some rare artifacts donated by a variety of merchants. And that’s not even the best part!” she cheered gleefully, pushing a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear.  
  
“Go on,” Sirius urged, laughing.  
  
“We’re going to have a bachelor auction! We thought it’d be a brilliant way to gather more support from the younger women in our social circles... A chance to win a date with one of our celebrity bachelors! We’ve already gotten half a dozen quidditch players signed up to participate! Isn’t that brilliant?”  
  
“Are you going to put _me_ up for auction,Evie?” Sirius laughed, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
Evelyn snorted, tossing back a gulp of her drink. “Gods no, Sirius. You’re _mine_. You know I don’t share,” she laughed, rising up from her seat on the couch and throwing herself into his lap. “Enough about me, tell me about your day,” she smiled, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
“I showed the lads hanging about Voldemort’s lair some healing spells... Explained what ones work best for which injuries... I think he seemed impressed by that,” Sirius noted, recounting his afternoon.  
  
“And ran into Bagman, of course, while playing lookout for Nott. He went to see the Minister of Magic... Dunno what exactly he was doing, though. I asked and he told me to keep my head down and just follow orders,” he sighed, frowning.   
  
“Do you think _he’s_ trying to take control of the Ministry?” Evelyn asked, concern etched on her face.  
  
“Dunno. Best we report it to Dumbledore though, I s’pose.”  
  
“How was dinner at your parents?”  
  
“It was alright... Mum sends her love...” Sirius replied, frowning.  
  
Evelyn bit her lip, pulling Sirius into an embrace. She was well aware that despite his parents’ apparent forgiveness, their relationship was still shaky, at best. _Far too much bad blood has been shed between them for things to ever be quite right._  
  
“How were drinks with Lucius?” Sirius asked, the dislike apparent in his voice.  
  
“Fine, I suppose,” Evelyn retorted dryly, rolling her eyes. She removed her arms from around his neck, turning herself so that she was sitting properly in his lap. Carefully, she leaned across the coffee table, grabbing her drink.   
  
She took a deep sip, wiping at her mouth with the sleeve of her blouse. “He wants me to nominate Cissy to join the board for St. Mungo’s.”  
  
“Oh, I bet you’re just thrilled about that,” Sirius laughed, shaking his head.  
  
“I told him that I’d play nice if he’d return the favor,” Evelyn noted, tossing back her head to take a swig of her drink.   
  
“Like that’ll happen,” Sirius snorted.  
  
“He better if he wants me to let that insufferable _bitch_ join the board. I mean... I _finally_ got made lead chair. Of course he wants to ruin that for me by letting her join,” she muttered darkly, frowning.   
  
“Don’t worry about playing all that nicely with her, Evie. I mean, you guys hate each other. You know Malfoy won’t hold up his end of the bargain. He’s a right prat... Let’s just face it. The four of us were never destined to be fast friends,” Sirius retorted, shrugging his shoulders dismissively.   
  
“I suppose you’re right...” Evelyn agreed, sighing heavily.  
  
“Did you get anymore info out of him?”  
  
“I did, it seems as though he’s been given the task of meeting with the werewolves and-”  
  
“HA!” Sirius interrupted, snickering loudly.  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I daresay that’s why _those_ negotiations have been going so terribly,” she noted, smirking slightly. “And Voldemort entrusted him with some sort of book. A diary of some sort. Any idea what that could be about?”  
  
Sirius shook his head. “No, I don’t. Anything else?”  
  
“He’s still recruiting up at Hogwarts, so it appears Dumbledore hasn’t quelled that, at all. And Voldemort has several members, Lucius included, out searching for valuable objects of some sort,” she continued, pursing her lips, deep in concentration.  
  
“I suppose we should write Dumbledore about our latest findings. It’s been nearly a week. Suppose he’ll want to meet and discuss everything,” Sirius muttered, swirling the contents of his drink.  
  
“You’re probably right. Do you want to write him, or should I?”  
  
“I’ll write him. You know I’m pants at relaying information unless I write it out myself. Is there anything else you can think of that you got out of the stupid git?”  
  
“No, that was it, I think. Besides the obvious, of course... He still doesn’t trust you. He’s been arguing with Voldemort about whether or not you’re trustworthy... It hasn’t been going well on Lucius’ end,” she added gleefully, tossing back the remainder of her drink.  
  
“Good,” Sirius noted, smirking triumphantly. “That fucking weasel.”

* * *

“Ladies, before we proceed with discussing venues, I’d like to put something on the table for a vote,” Evelyn said calmly, carefully eyeing the group of women seated at her dining room table.  
  
As the lead chair of the board for the St. Mungo's Foundation, Evelyn had seen fit to host tea at her home, as the board met to discuss plans for the upcoming charity event. Her best friend, Emma Vanity, eyed her suspiciously, silently questioning what she was up to.  
  
“As you know, dear Gladys Fairgood has retired from the committee, leaving an opening in our midst. I would like to propose a nominee for consideration to join our great organization,” Evelyn continued, forcing a poised smile.  
  
The women looked on, greatly intrigued. “Who do you suggest?” Clara Goyle asked, her delicate brows furrowed in thought.  
  
“I would like to nominate Narcissa Malfoy,” Evelyn noted, her broad smile unwavering.  
  
The room fell upon hushed silence, as the women exchanged curious looks, their mouths turned upward into smirks.   
  
“Are you sure that someone like _her_ would be a good fit for our foundation?” Jeanette Claude queried, brushing her auburn hair from out of her face.  
  
“ _Purchasing_ your husband is hardly in good taste,” Naomi Avery noted, clicking her tongue in distaste.  
  
Several other women at the table murmured in agreement, casting Evelyn curious looks.  
  
Evelyn cleared her throat, silently wishing she’d spiked her tea with gin. “ _Ladies_ ,” she began, smile still plastered to her face. “Though I admit that Narcissa has a bit of an _unsavory_ side, she _does_ come from the Black family, and is my dear husband’s cousin. May I also remind you that she and her husband have been generous donors to our foundation for the past three years.”  
  
The ladies sat in silence for a moment, considering.  
  
“All in favor of extending an invitation to Narcissa Malfoy to join the board for the foundation?” Evelyn queried, her voice firm and cool.  
  
One by one, the ladies raised their hands, albeit reluctantly. Jeannette Claude cleared her throat, eyeing Evelyn for permission to speak.  
  
“Jeanette?” Evelyn asked calmly, offering the woman an authoritative smile.  
  
“Might I suggest that we extend the invitation under the stipulation that she be considered a junior committee member, given her inexperience with organizing fundraising events?” she asked coolly, turning her head to question the other members, as well.  
  
“I second that motion,” Emma called out shrilly, rising from her chair.  
  
The others muttered in agreement, eyeing Evelyn expectantly.  
  
“Very well,” Evelyn agreed, smiling warmly, vindicated by this turn of events. “I hereby decree that we extend an invitation to Narcissa Malfoy to join the St. Mungo’s Foundation board as a junior committee member.”

* * *

“How lovely to see you, Narcissa,” Evelyn greeted the familiar blonde, as she saw her approaching.  
  
After the meeting with the rest of the board, Evelyn had arranged that she and Narcissa meet for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron the following afternoon.  
  
“Likewise,” Narcissa retorted coolly, offering Evelyn an air kiss on each cheek before joining her at the table.  
  
Evelyn sipped her martini as Narcissa ordered a glass of wine, silently observing her. _Such a stupid twat. I hate her._ “How have you been, Narcissa? I haven’t seen you since Christmas,” Evelyn said calmly, her voice dripping with forced politeness.  
  
“Very well,” Narcissa quipped, taking a sip of her wine. “And how have you and my dear cousin been?”   
  
“Wonderful. We’ve at last settled into our place. I’m _so_ glad we stayed in London... I couldn’t imagine not living in the city,” Evelyn remarked coolly, forcing a smile.  
  
“I hear it’s a lovely _row-home_ ,” Narcissa agreed, her words like ice. “Though I must say, I prefer the quiet and vast acreage of the countryside,” she continued.  
  
“To each their own, I suppose. You and Lucius must come by for dinner some time... I’ve _finally_ finished decorating. It’s been a bloody nightmare, working with all of these antique dealers to locate suitable pieces to match our decor. Siri and I decided on a Gothic Revival theme... Well, until I tire of it and change my mind,” she laughed, offering Narcissa a smug grin. _I have better taste than you could ever hope to._  
  
Evelyn took a prim sip of her drink, eyeing the other blonde icily. “Anyway, I have news for you,” she started, offering a cold smile.  
  
“After careful consideration, the ladies and I would like to extend you an offer to join the St. Mungo’s Foundation as a junior committee member,” Evelyn continued, still grinning coldly.  
  
“It would be an honor... Thank you for allowing me to join such a noble cause,” Narcissa retorted just as coolly, her blue-gray eyes piercing Evelyn’s own blue ones.  
  
“Though I must ask, why a _junior_ committee member?” she added, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
Evelyn smirked, raising her glass to finish her drink. “Given your inexperience with organizing charitable events, we thought it best that you start as a junior member, before being given more detailed and complicated tasks,” she explained, offering Narcissa a haughty smile.  
  
She rose to her feet, reaching into her handbag and placing several galleons onto the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be going. I’ll owl you with the details for the next board meeting,” she started, smoothing down her skirt.  
  
“Of course, thank you again,” Narcissa replied tersely, a forced grin plastered on her face.  
  
“By all means. Just give it time... when it comes to these things, it takes a while to start to _matter_.”


	13. Chapter 13

“I can’t believe they only made me a _junior_ member. Honestly, Lucius... It’s an insult, not only to myself, but to you and your good name,” Narcissa snapped, angrily brushing knots out of her hair.  
  
“They accepted you though, didn’t they? You’ve been trying to get onto the board since we wed... Something is better than nothing, isn’t it?” Lucius quipped, watching her from the doorway.  
  
Narcissa frowned, turning her attention back to brushing her hair. She had to meet the ladies in two hour’s time for another planning meeting for the gala. “Of course you’re defending _her_ ,” she pouted,watching Lucius’ reflection in the mirror.  
  
“Spare me the theatrics, Narcissa,” Lucius snapped, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I should rescind my acceptance... _Honestly_ , a junior member, Lucius? That’s the role given to seventeen year-olds newly out of Hogwarts.”  
  
“No. You will _not_ rescind your acceptance, Narcissa,” Lucius snarled, stalking across the room towards her.  
  
“So what if I do?” she quipped, whipping her head around to face him. “I _hate_ her. Why would I want to spend any more time with that filthy whore and her friends than I have to?”  
  
“Because Cissy, I _need_ you to be close to her. I _know_ your cousin is up to something, and therefore I need you to keep tabs on what Evie-”  
  
“ _Don’t you dare say her name in front of me_!” Narcissa screeched, shoving Lucius away from her. “Especially not so casually. As if I don’t know that you were still screwing her up until her wedding day.... probably even after, knowing you.”  
  
She recoiled as Lucius slapped her hard across the face. “Shut up. I will not be spoken to that way,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing to slits.  
  
“As I was saying, I require your assistance. You _will_ continue to participate on the board, and you _will_ do what is necessary to keep tabs on Evelyn. I believe that you are meeting at her home this afternoon, correct?” he hissed, grabbing her harshly by the shoulder.  
  
“Yes,” she breathed, tensing up.  
  
“While there, you will look around for anything suspicious. Sort through Black’s things. I don’t bloody care if you have to break open cabinets, I need to find out what he’s up to!”  
  
He grabbed her by the chin, tilting her head up to face him. “Do you understand me?” he asked, holding her tight in his grip.  
  
Narcissa offered a curt nod, tears springing in her eyes. “Yes sir.”

* * *

“Alright ladies, we only have another two weeks before the gala, it’s time to get down to business,” Evelyn began, clapping her hands to draw the others’ attention.  
  
Once again, Evelyn had hosted the planning meeting at her home, gathering the other women in the dining room. Tea had already been served, and idle gossip had already been discussed.   
  
“Emma, how are we looking for the auction?” Evelyn asked, nodding towards her best friend.  
  
“We’ve already confirmed with sixteen local merchants to provide a variety of items for the guests to bid on,” she noted, grinning triumphantly.  
  
“Very good... and as for the bachelor auction?”  
  
“We have eight quidditch players have confirmed, as well as Jeanette’s son Jacques. We still need another bachelor to make it an even ten... I think ten would be sufficient, don’t you?” Emma asked, her brows furrowed.  
  
“Definitely,” Evelyn agreed, nodding. “Ladies, any suggestions?”  
  
The room fell quiet as the others racked their brains for suggestions.  
  
“What about your brother-in-law?” Naomi suggested, raising her hand slightly. “Regulus is single, isn’t he?”  
  
Evelyn nodded. “He is... that’s a good idea,” she noted, offering Naomi a grateful smile.  
  
“Shame he’s not nearly as handsome as his brother,” Clara muttered to Emma, loud enough for Evelyn to overhear.  
  
“Emma. If you’d check with Reg to see if he’d agree to it, then I think we’ll be all set in the auction department,” Evelyn noted, smirking slightly from the overheard comment.  
  
“I have compiled a list of our top donors to the foundation,” Evelyn continued, motioning toward a pile of parchment before her. “I’ve divided the list evenly amongst us. I’d like for everyone to write a personalized letter inviting these top donors to our gala and reminding them of the incredible work the foundation does. This is the first big event of the year, and I want it to be a huge success.”  
  
She passed the parchment around the table, ensuring everyone had received a list of names. She then waved her hand, conjuring quills and ink, as well as fresh sheets of parchment with the foundation’s logo on them. “Please remember ladies, that these are our top donors.”  
  
As the others busied themselves with the task at hand, Narcissa excused herself from the room, under the guise of using the bathroom. She ascended the flight of stairs quickly, making a beeline for Sirius’ study. Hurriedly, she shuffled through the papers sitting on his desk, scanning each for anything of note. Frowning, she threw the papers back on the desk, turning her attention to the drawers. Frantically, she went through each one, rummaging through his belongings. _Potions ingredients. Crystal ball. Advanced transfiguration texts. Healing Charms texts._ She frowned, slamming the last drawer closed. She looked around the rest of the room, scanning the contents in search of something, _anything_ to mention to Lucius.  
  
“Looking for something?” an icy voice rang out from the doorway.  
  
Narcissa froze, feeling a jolt of fear course through her veins. “Sorry, I got distracted,” she stammered, hurriedly trying to think of an excuse for her presence in the study. “The desk caught my eye as I was leaving the bathroom... I was just admiring the other pieces you’ve collected for your home... Gothic Revival was an elegant choice for decor.”  
  
Evelyn nodded curtly, apparently satisfied by her response. “Thank you,” she noted, offering Narcissa a cold smile. “Now come on... Those letters aren’t going to write themselves.”

* * *

“Sirius, you will be accompanying Rookwood on a mission this evening,” Voldemort noted, shooting a meaningful look in Sirius’ direction.  
  
“Of course, my lord,” Sirius agreed, nodding obediently.  
  
He had taken Nott’s advice to heart, keeping his head down and not asking questions about tasks given. He looked over to Rookwood, who was eyeing him warily. Sirius was quite familiar with Augustus Rookwood; he was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry, and was a close friend of his father.   
  
“Fenrir Greyback has _graciously_ agreed to meet with us, once again, despite prior failures in convincing his pack to join our cause,” Voldemort continued, shooting Malfoy a disdainful look.   
  
“Are you certain that Black would be best suited for this task, my lord?” Rookwood asked, looking from Sirius to Voldemort.   
  
Sirius felt a pang of anxiety as he heard Snape snickering. _Has he told them? Oh Merlin, don’t tell them about Remus._ He turned his head, staring down Snape to get his attention. The two exchanged sharp looks, culminating in Snape raising a single eyebrow, but otherwise remaining silent.  
  
“Sirius has proven to excel in any task given to him... I am sure he will be an asset to your mission. If nothing else, he is quite skilled at healing... In case those beasts attack,” Voldemort noted, laughing coldly.  
  
“Very well, my lord. Where are we to meet him? Knockturn?” Rookwood asked calmly, glancing at his watch.  
  
“I’m afraid not, Rookwood... Given past _unpleasantness_ , he has agreed to this meeting only under the terms that you meet him and his pack on their own territory,” Voldemort noted grimly, again shooting disgusted looks Malfoy’s way.  
  
“Of course. While other have failed, I am confident we will be able to sway them to join our cause, my lord,” Rookwood noted smoothly, motioning for Sirius to follow him.

* * *

“If he wants my support so badly, why doesn’t he meet with me himself?” Greyback snarled, shooting the two wizards filthy looks.  
  
“Mr. Greyback, I assure you that the dark lord is very busy and has sent us as his trusted counsel to meet with you,” Rookwood stated calmly, eyeing the werewolf with apparent dislike.  
  
“How can I know that I can trust him, that my pack can trust him to keep his word if he won’t even meet with me himself?” he pressed on, baring his teeth.  
  
Sirius watched on, unsure of whether to interject. Rookwood had not said so much as a word to him since they had left Voldemort’s chambers. Nott’s words still fresh in his mind, he had seen it best to remain silent until addressed. He watched as Rookwood rolled his eyes, obviously losing his temper. The pair had been speaking with Greyback for nearly forty minutes, and had yet to move past the reasoning behind why Voldemort hadn’t met with Greyback himself. _Merlin, maybe he should have just bloody met with him._  
  
“Lord Voldemort has promised to rescind the Ministry’s restrictions on your kind as soon as he takes power and-”  
  
“Why should I trust him, though? How do I know he’ll keep his word? After all, he’s just another man with a wand,” Fenrir interrupted, waving his hand dismissively at Rookwood’s words. “I know your kind... You look down upon us... Oppressing us out of fear...”  
  
“Sir, if I may?” Sirius noted feebly, taking a step forward.  
  
“Who are you?” Greyback snarled, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“Sirius Orion Black... I have also been sent by Voldemort to speak with you,” he began, continuing to approach the werewolf.  
  
He felt his arm hair tingle as the wolf began to sniff him, checking his scent. “Go on,” he growled, watching him with cautious curiosity.  
  
Sirius nodded, clearing his throat. “While I understand your apprehension at taking the dark lord’s word at face value, consider this: right now, the Ministry has left your kind at their mercy. They’re rounding you up, forcing those with your affliction to register with the Ministry, keeping tabs on your every move. I know that many of your kind, though perhaps not your pack, have been reduced to inflicting pain upon themselves during their transformations, out of fear of garnering attention of the Ministry. By joining us in the fight for our cause, you would have free reign to your fill of blood. I’m sure many of your kind would prefer the taste of human flesh to the sheep preyed upon under the darkness of night,” he said calmly, staring into the werewolf’s eyes.  
  
Sirius saw a flicker of recognition in Greyback’s eyes as he stared Sirius down. _He can smell me, sense my animagus form._  
  
“You offer a compelling argument, _lack_ ,” Greyback noted, smirking.  
  
Sirius nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“Though I may see your logic as reason enough to agree, I insist that you speak to my pack as well,” he continued, nodding towards his pack, who lingered some distance behind him.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed calmly, sustaining eye contact.  
  
“Bring them here for us to speak to,” Rookwood noted, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  
  
“ _Not you_. Only _him_ ,” Greyback snarled, pointing at Sirius.  
  
Sirius turned to Rookwood, silently asking permission. Rookwood shrugged, nodding towards the pack of werewolves. “Alright,” Sirius said lowly, following Greyback deeper into the forest, to speak with his pack.  
  
Once a safe distance away from Rookwood, Greyback paused. He turned to Sirius, studying him for a moment. “You are not an ordinary wizard,” he stated, his eyes boring holes into his own.  
  
“You smelled me,” Sirius retorted, continuing to stare back.  
  
“I did. You have an animal form. Which is why I could trust you,” Greyback said calmly, before turning to his pack.  
  
Sirius nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“You can tell Voldemort that he has my support. My pack will follow, and we will see fit to garnering the support of the rest of our kind,” Greyback noted brusquely, motioning for Sirius to go.   
  
Sirius turned and began to make his way back towards Rookwood. As he walked, he heard Greyback call after him, “send my regards to your friend Remus Lupin.”  
  
Sirius paused a moment, feeling his stomach drop. _Greyback. He turned Remus. But how does he...?_ He turned his head instinctively, watching Greyback observing him.  
  
“He marked you as one of his own. Of course I could smell _him_ on you, as well,” he said lowly, his lips twisted into a sinister sneer. 

* * *

“Well?” Voldemort asked expectantly.  
  
Sirius turned to Rookwood, waiting for him to speak. “Greyback has agreed to support your cause, my lord. He assured us that you have the support of him and his pack, and that he will ensure that other packs shall follow suit.”  
  
Voldemort grinned, pleased. “Excellent. What exactly changed his mind, at last?” he queried, eyeing Rookwood expectantly.  
  
“I”m not entirely sure,” Rookwood noted, peering over at Sirius. “It was Black that convinced him.”  
  
“Is this true?” Voldemort asked, turning his attention to Sirius.  
  
Sirius nodded. “Yes, sir.” He glanced over at Malfoy, who was eyeing him contemptuously.   
  
“And how did you get his support?” Voldemort pressed.  
  
“I told him the truth... that he and his kind have no hope for any sort of freedom from the shackles of the Ministry without your support, my lord. And reminded him on the incentive of joining our cause, or course,” Sirius explained, smirking as Lucius and Snape both shot him incensed glares.   
  
Voldemort nodded, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“Free reign of blood, of course. He goes after those who we need to be disposed of , and he and his kind take the spoils of flesh. It’s an even exchange,” Sirius noted, shrugging. “He couldn’t help but see it as a win-win, when I put it that way.”  
  
“Excellent work, Sirius. You have done well,” Voldemort noted, eyeing him intently. “As I attested, it appears that you succeed at everything you do.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Sirius replied, nodding in acknowledgment of Voldemort’s praise.  
  
He took a step back amongst the crowd of fellow Death Eaters as Voldemort turned his attention to Dolohov, discussing the results of his mission that evening.   
  
Lucius approached Sirius, his icy blue eyes focused on his own gray ones. “ _Black_ ,” he addressed him, offering him a nod in recognition.  
  
“Malfoy,” Sirius replied curtly, nodding back.   
  
“Congratulations on your success. The dark lord has been most insistent on forging an alliance with the werewolves,” Lucius started, the pleasantry of his voice forced.  
  
“It is an honor to be of service to the dark lord,” Sirius retorted, shooting Lucius icy glares.  
  
“Narcissa was asked to join the board of the St. Mungo’s Foundation.”  
  
“I heard. Congratulations to her. I’m sure Cissy is quite pleased,” Sirius noted, crossing his arms.   
  
“Indeed she is. If you would, thank your wife for me. She was so kind as to nominate Cissy to join,” Malfoy continued, smirking.   
  
Sirius nodded, clenching his jaw. “Of course,” he agreed. _Stay the hell away from my wife, Malfoy._  
  
“How is Evie, anyway?” Malfoy asked, purposely goading him.  
  
“She’s well... Very busy, as I’m sure you know. The gala is in two weeks... As the lead chair, so much of the planning is falling on her shoulders... she’s a perfectionist,” Sirius noted, staring the blond down.  
  
“Oh, I _know_ ,” Lucius agreed, smirking. “Evie has _always_ been a perfectionist. I’m sure she’ll do a spectacular job in organizing the gala.”  
  
“Indeed. How has Cissy been enjoying the planning? I understand she’s been assisting with writing for donations.”  
  
“She is thrilled to be a part of such a noble cause... I assume you will be in attendance at the gala?” Malfoy asked, offering Sirius a pointed look.  
  
“Of course. As the presumed head of the Black family and the husband of the lead chair of the foundation, my presence is expected at such events,” Sirius affirmed, frowning at the blond.  
  
“I understand nearly half of the department heads of the Ministry will be there,” Malfoy noted, looking to Sirius for confirmation.  
  
“Of course. Everyone who is anyone will be in attendance.”  
  
“Black, a word, if you will?” Voldemort asked suddenly, interjecting himself into Sirius and Lucius’ conversation.   
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, waiting expectantly for Voldemort to continue.  
  
“I couldn’t help but overhear that your wife is hosting some sort of charity event,” he began, eyeing Sirius curiously.  
  
“Yes, for St. Mungo’s,” Sirius affirmed.  
  
“And there will be a great deal of Ministry presence in attendance?”  
  
“Mhmm,” Sirius agreed, nodding.  
  
Voldemort paused, his lips pressed together, deep in thought.  
  
“Hmmm,” he mumbled, a single eyebrow raised. “Perhaps...”  
  
“Perhaps what, my lord?” Sirius asked, unable to contain himself from asking.  
  
“Sirius. I have a request,” Voldemort began, still eyeing him curiously.  
  
“Yes, my lord?”  
  
“I would like for you to put several Ministry department heads under the Imperius curse while at the gala,” Voldemort explained, his eyes watching Sirius expectantly.  
  
Sirius froze, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“Given your position as the presumed head of the Black family, and your wife’s role as lead chair of the foundation, it would be quite easy for you to draw such individuals into conversation, would it not?” Voldemort queried.  
  
“I suppose so,” Sirius agreed.  
  
“And given that the gala will be such a large public gathering, it would be an ideal opportunity to put these individuals under our control without drawing much suspicion, wouldn’t you agree?” Voldemort pressed, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, glancing over at Malfoy, who was staring at him in silent rage. _He’s furious. Totally furious that he’s been overlooked._ Sirius couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction. _Serves him right. Bloody wanker._  
  
“Thus far, you have been successful in performing every task I have asked of you. I daresay that you shan’t disappoint me with this, correct?” Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowed into slits, staring at him expectantly.   
  
Sirius nodded, feeling a rush of anxiety course through his veins. “Of course, sir.”

* * *

Evelyn frowned as she flipped through dresses on the rack. As per tradition, she had come to Harrods in search of a gown for the upcoming gala. However, she had not had much luck. She pulled a gown off the rack, scrutinizing it. A mauve Valentino silk chiffon halter backless gown with embroidery. She frowned, staring down at the gown. _It’s pretty, but is it exquisite enough for my first event as lead chair?_ Frowning, she returned the gown to the rack, brows furrowed.  
  
She continued flipping through the rack, again pausing at a particular gown. She eyed the gown, considering it. It was an off-white silk satin Yves Saint Laurent gown with a plunging neckline. _Hmmm_. She pulled the gown off the rack, draping it over her arm. She continued to peruse the rack, eyeing each dress carefully.  
  
“Evelyn!”  
  
Surprised, Evelyn immediately turned around, in search of the source of the voice. _Who could be calling my name? No one knows me that shops here._ She felt her stomach drop as she caught sight of a familiar redhead, waving to her from across the sales floor. _Lily Potter_. Quickly, she regained her composure, offering Lily a cheerful smile. “Lily! How are you?” she called back, striding towards her.  
  
“I’m good. Just doing a little shopping... Though I must say, I’m shocked to see you here! I didn’t think any wit- anyone from school came round these parts to shop,” Lily gushed, her green eyes sparkling.  
  
Evelyn smiled politely, remembering Dumbledore’s chastising words toward Sirius in regard to maintaining contact with his friends. “I’m a London girl, you know,” she noted, shrugging her shoulders. “Besides... no shop in our world compares to Harrods. I love it here,” she added.  
  
“Me too,” Lily agreed, beaming. “How has Sirius been? We haven’t seen him much since... Well, you know,” she asked, eyeing Evelyn hesitantly.  
  
“He’s well.. we’ve been busy getting settled into the new house. Decorating has been a bloody nightmare,” Evelyn noted, struggling to think of an appropriate response.  
  
“I know it’s not my place to ask but... do you have any idea why Sirius has been so distant lately? I know he and James had a quarrel, but that’s hardly a reason to throw away nearly a decade of friendship, don’t you think?” she pressed, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.  
  
Evelyn frowned, biting her lower lip. “I don’t really know what’s going on with him... He’s had a hard time _adjusting_ to his role as the heir to his family. Returning to the rules of pure-blooded society has been difficult for him... Though I suppose he _must_ love me, if he was willing to take on that daunting task for me,” she replied, struggling to string together a sufficient lie. _That seems believable. Oh gods, please buy that excuse._  
  
Lily frowned, nodding. “James has told me how much you’ve always meant to Sirius. We’re both happy he has you... It’s good to see that he’s happy with someone,” she noted, a grin returning to her lips.  
  
Evelyn nodded, unsure how to respond.  
  
“I was thinking... perhaps you could help me in getting those two to put an end to this silly fight.”  
  
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, surprised by Lily’s sudden request. “How would we do that?” she queried.  
  
“I don’t know,” Lily started, frowning again. “Just talk to him, maybe. James is so bloody stubborn, and he’ll never admit it, but he misses Sirius terribly.” She eyed Evelyn expectantly.  
  
“Sirius misses James as well, I’m quite sure... though he came home in quite a state after he and James had a row of some sort. I don’t know what was said but...” she trailed off, shrugging.  
  
Lily nodded, still frowning. “Well still... could you please try and talk some sense into him? I hate to see James like this... Sirius is his best mate. He’s his brother. They need each other,” she continued, pleadingly.  
  
Evelyn sighed, chewing on her lower lip. “I’ll try and talk to him,” she replied hesitantly, avoiding making eye contact with the redhead. “Though you know how stubborn Sirius is... but I’ll try.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I found Cissy rummaging through your things in your study the other day,” Evelyn noted, as she finished applying her makeup.  
  
“Oh?” Sirius asked, frowning.  
  
“She didn’t find anything. Stupid bitch. Can you believe she had the audacity to just wander off in _our_ home when she was a guest here?” Evelyn huffed, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Lucius probably put her up to it,” Sirius noted, sighing heavily.  
  
“How was last night?” Evelyn asked, turning to give Sirius her full attention.  
  
“It was alright,” he replied, shrugging. “I met with Greyback. Succeeded where Malfoy failed in getting the support of the werewolves.”  
  
Evelyn smirked. “Excellent. I’m sure Voldemort was quite pleased with you.”  
  
“He was. But still...” he paused, frowning.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, joining him on the bed. She took his hand in hers, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“I don’t know, it’s probably nothing, just... Greyback... He could smell Remus on me. I’m just afraid that he’ll say something... I don’t know. He probably won’t. He only trusted me because I...” he trailed off, hesitant to continue.  
  
“Because why?” Evelyn asked suspiciously, grabbing him by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact with her.  
  
Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know, love. I think he only trusted me because he could smell Remus on me... He said something along those lines, that I was marked as part of Remus’ pack or something,” he lied, immediately blocking his thoughts, knowing full-well that Evelyn would try and read them. _Best not make her aware that I’m an animagus_. He loved Evelyn, truly, and trusted her to a great extent; however, there were some things that were best left unknown.  
  
“Your brother is being a right wanker about the bachelor auction,” Evelyn complained, suddenly changing the subject.  
  
“What’s the matter with him?” Sirius replied, pleased with the change in subject.  
  
“He said he feels _uncomfortable_ having women bid on him. Do you think he’s a shirt lifter?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.  
  
“No, Reg is definitely straight,” Sirius retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s just shy. He’s not me.”  
  
Evelyn sighed. “I know... Emma thinks that’s the problem. He doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he’s Sirius Black’s younger, less attractive brother.”  
  
Sirius laughed, the corners of his mouth raising into a smirk. “I suppose poor Reggie always has had the misfortune of living in my shadow.”  
  
“What time are we meeting with Dumbledore?” Evelyn asked, glancing down at her watch.  
  
“We should get going now, I suppose.”

* * *

“Any new developments?” Dumbledore queried, once pleasantries were exchanged.  
  
Evelyn nodded towards Sirius, waiting for him to begin. “I’ve been on a few missions for Voldemort... He’s trying to take control of the Ministry,” he began, tapping his foot anxiously.  
  
“Oh?” Dumbledore asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“He sent me to act as lookout for Nott, who met with the Minister of Magic. I assume he’s trying to put as many high ranking officials under the Imperius as possible,” Sirius continued.  
  
Evelyn looked at him expectantly. “He actually has tasked me with putting several department heads under the Imperius during the St. Mungo’s gala next week,” he continued, unable to help smirking.  
  
“He has trusted you to take control of these high ranking officials?” Dumbledore asked, scrutinizing him carefully.  
  
“Yes,” Sirius affirmed, frowning. _Why are you so surprised? Is it so hard to believe that someone recognizes my skill, my talent, and trusts me to take care of such an important task?_  
  
“He seems to have put a great deal of trust in you, then. Very good, Sirius.”   
  
Sirius nodded curtly.  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
“As Evelyn told you previously, he has been wooing the werewolves, eager for their support. I was successful in meeting with Greyback and securing his support for Voldemort,” Sirius continued coldly, his gray eyes piercing back at Dumbledore’s blue ones.  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.  
  
“Tell him,” Evelyn muttered quietly, jabbing him in the ribs.  
  
“Um... I don’t know if it’s anything to worry about, but Greyback made a comment that I was a bit taken aback by,” Sirius started, staring down at his hands.  
  
“What did he say to you?”  
  
“He um... He told me to send his regards to Remus. And that he could smell him on me, that Remus had marked me as one of his own,” Sirius continued, eyes still focused on his hands, wringing in his lap.  
  
He looked up, waiting for Dumbledore’s response. “I don’t think that you have anything to worry about. That he smelled another werewolf on you is probably the only reason that he trusted you to begin with. I’m quite familiar with Greyback... He’s vicious. He lives for the kill. He doesn’t trust wizards, and likely has only agreed to take Voldemort’s side under the promise of free reign over human flesh,” he stated calmly, his blues eyes staring intently at him.  
  
“That’s essentially what I told him,” Sirius affirmed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I hope that I haven’t made a mistake in doing so.”  
  
“You’ve done what has been asked of you. It is for the greater good.”  
  
“Snape and Malfoy still don’t trust me... They’ve been complaining to Voldemort that I can’t be trusted... I think they’re plotting against me,” Sirius noted, frowning.   
  
Dumbledore nodded politely before shaking his head dismissively. “Snape is a blip on Voldemort’s radar... he’s nothing but another soldier to him, useless, disposable. And Malfoy, for all his cunning, is hardly a reliable source. Any accusations he makes could be easily dismissed as the rantings of a jealous former lover. Neither are any real threat to you or your mission.”  
  
“I don’t think that we should have Evelyn continue to meet with him... Especially since I’ve usurped his position in meeting with dark creatures to garner support. I’m afraid he might attack her to get to me,” Sirius said darkly, frowning.   
  
“Evelyn is still of great use to our cause, Sirius. She has uncovered a great deal of intelligence through her skill. You must remember, our own individual concerns are nothing compared to the greater good of the success of the mission-”  
  
“You promised,” Sirius spat accusingly, glowering.   
  
“After the gala, I will need a full report of who you have succeeded in putting under the Imperius, as well as how effective your curse was. We will want to keep tabs on who is under the control of Voldemort, to ensure that they are not privy to sensitive Order information,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Sirius’ comment.  
  
“Sir, I don’t know if I can keep doing this. The Imperius is one thing, but what if he asks me to start killing people? The first one was hard enough and-”  
  
“If he commands you to kill, you will kill, Sirius. Nothing, _nothing_ can compromise this mission. You have made great strides in earning the trust of Voldemort. Success at the gala could secure you a spot amongst his most trusted Death Eaters.”  
  
Sirius frowned, glancing down at his left arm. He felt a wave of nausea as he caught sight of a bit of the dark mark. “Sir, I-”  
  
“Mister Black, may I remind you that you _agreed_ to this mission. You were made fully aware of the risks at hand. You will continue to follow my orders and fulfill your duty to the Order,” Dumbledore stated calmly, his words laced with venom.   
  
Evelyn squeezed his hand, as he felt a surge of anger course through his veins. She turned her head to face him, shooting him a knowing look. _Stop. Calm down._ Sirius breathed heavily through his nose, his jaw clenched. “Very well,” he snapped, crossing his arms against his chest.  
  
“I will speak with the both of you after the gala, then. And remember, Sirius, this is mission is far bigger than any of us. We are fighting for the greater good.”

* * *

“You wished to speak with me, sir?” Sirius asked, standing idly at the doorway.  
  
“Ah, Sirius. Please, come in,” Voldemort smiled, motioning for him to step forward.  
  
Sirius obliged, shutting the door behind him. To his surprise, Voldemort was alone. This was, in and of itself, a rarity. He had never been in the dark lord’s presence alone; usually, he was surrounded by top-ranking Death Eaters, his closest advisers.   
  
“Take a seat, won’t you?” Voldemort continued, motioning towards a chair across from his desk.  
  
Sirius nodded, lowering himself into the chair. He waited silently, observing the dark lord, who was eyeing him curiously.  
  
“You have proven to be a great asset to my cause, Sirius,” Voldemort drawled, his sharp canine teeth prominent as he offered Sirius a smile. “Your raw talent far exceeds many within my ranks.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Sirius replied, unable to contain a small grin.   
  
“The St. Mungo’s gala is in two days, correct?” he prompted, staring expectantly.  
  
“Yes,” Sirius affirmed, nodding his head in agreement.   
  
“During the gala, I would like for you to put several of the Ministry department heads under the Imperius. Of course, the more you are able to take control of, the better, but there are a few that I am particularly interested in,” Voldemort began, his long fingers entwining as he folded his hands, placing them on his desk.   
  
Sirius nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“Barty Crouch Sr. As head of the department of magical law enforcement, it would be of great use to us to have control of him,” Voldemort noted, looking to Sirius expectantly.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, silently taking note of the name.   
  
“Scrimgeour, of course. I’m sure you would enjoy that one... He denied your application to train as an Auror, am I correct?” Voldemort pressed.  
  
“Indeed,” Sirius noted sourly, frowning. “Their loss, I suppose.”  
  
“It’s incredible, isn’t it, how often those of us who are extraordinary, who have such tremendous _talent_ are pushed aside by those in power, out of fear of being overshadowed?” Voldemort asked, rising to his feet.  
  
Sirius watched as he began to pace the room, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  
  
“It is, sir,” Sirius agreed, staring intently at the dark lord.   
  
“It’s come to my understanding that you were close friends with Dumbledore’s golden boy while in school, James Potter.”  
  
Sirius nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat.  
  
“My dear followers have told me that in Dumbledore’s eyes, Potter could do no wrong. He even made him Head Boy, despite his _indiscretions_.”  
  
Sirius remained silent, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“However, you yourself were not impervious to Dumbledore’s watchful eye, were you, Sirius?”  
  
“No,” Sirius agreed, curious as to what Voldemort was alluding to.  
  
“Though he refused to disclose the details, I have come to understand that you were nearly expelled as a result of an incident in which both you and Mr. Potter were involved,” he continued, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
“Why do you suppose that you were so carefully scrutinized, yet Mr. Potter was free to walk away with no repercussions, whatsoever?”  
  
“He didn’t trust me,” Sirius muttered, frowning. “Even though I was sorted into Gryffindor, it didn’t matter. I’m a Black.”  
  
“Of course,” Voldemort agreed, smirking. “He always was wary of those of us from Slytherin...” he paused, staring into the fireplace. “Though Dumbledore has no problem beckoning those he distrusts into his service when it is of convenience to him.”  
  
Sirius stared at the silhouette of the man, his features distorted by the flickering flames.  
  
“What do you mean by that, my lord?”   
  
Voldemort turned around, eyeing him curiously. “You may be shocked to learn that Dumbledore is not nearly as innocent and _good_ as he claims to be. He has quite the sinister past,” he replied, grinning maliciously.  
  
Sirius nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“You have heard of Grindelwald, I am sure?”  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed.  
  
“During his youth, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were quite chummy. The two had plotted and planned to create a new world order, to lead a revolution in which wizards had total power over both our own kind as well as the muggles.” He paused, eyeing Sirius expectantly.  
  
Sirius stared ahead, mesmerized by Voldemort’s words. _Could it be true? Could Dumbledore have been a power hungry man in his youth? Eager to cut down anyone who stood in his way?_  
  
Voldemort smiled cruelly, laughing. “In fact, it was Dumbledore who coined Grindelwald's infamous slogan, ‘for the greater good’.”  
  
Sirius stared ahead, eyes bulging. He had heard Dumbledore utter that phrase countless times.   
  
“Dumbledore, despite his charming persona, has no problem throwing others to the flames for his own personal gain,” Voldemort continued. “He draws those he can manipulate, can control, into his inner circle, yet casts those who are a threat to him aside.”  
  
“I’m sure it was frustrating, to be such close friends with someone and to see them showered in praise by your headmaster, despite the fact that your own talents far exceeded that of your friend,” Voldemort noted, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“I don’t doubt for a second that Dumbledore was keenly aware of your power, of your potential. However, you are not like the weak, easily manipulated Gryffindors, are you, Sirius?”  
  
Sirius shook his head no, gazing intently at the man before him.  
  
“No. I can see that you are nothing like them. You aren’t pathetic, blindly following the so-called _great_ Dumbledore,” he continued, his red-rimmed eyes boring holes through him.  
  
“No,” Sirius agreed, mesmerized, listening raptly to his every word.  
  
“I could help you Sirius. I could help you unlock power you could only _dream_ of. You have an infinite amount of untapped potential, Sirius. _Let me help you_.”  
  
“Please, sir,” Sirius retorted, unable to draw his eyes away from Voldemort, drawn in by his very presence. “Teach me. _Show me_.”

* * *

Sirius entered the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed in a new set of dress robes, to find the room in disarray. “Evie?” he asked hesitantly, watching as his wife continued to throw clothing onto the floor.  
  
“I don’t know what to wear,” she complained, stamping her foot impatiently.  
  
Sirius suppressed a laugh, eyeing his wife in bemusement. She stood in her underwear in front of her closet, her long blonde hair curled and piled up into an elegant updo, her makeup flawlessly applied. “I thought you bought a dress at Harrods?” Sirius queried, glancing at the dresses scattered about the floor. _There’s a small fortune’s worth of tulle and silk lying on the ground._  
  
“I did, but I’m not sure about it,” Evelyn continued, hands planted firmly on her hips.  
  
“Which one did you buy?” he asked calmly, hoping that she hadn’t crumpled her latest purchase and tossed it to the floor.  
  
“That one,” she said, pointing towards the bed.   
  
Sirius picked up the dress, carefully examining it. It was an off-white silk floor-length gown with a plunging neckline. “It’s a gorgeous dress, Evie. Why not wear this?” he asked, holding up the dress.  
  
Evelyn frowned, rolling her eyes. “It’s just so... white.”  
  
Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes. “I think that it would look stunning on you. Besides,” he paused, reaching into his dress robes and procuring a white case tied with a gold ribbon from his inner breast-pocket, “I got you a little something. To wish you good luck on your big night.”  
  
Evelyn’s eyes lit up as she reached out for her box. “Van Cleef and Arpels?” she queried, her mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise. “I didn’t think you knew anything about muggle jewelers.”  
  
“I’ve spent enough time around you to pick up a little bit,” he assured her, laughing. “Go ahead and open it.”  
  
“Oh Sirius,” she gasped, gazing down at the contents. Nestled in black velvet lay a gorgeous v-shaped diamond choker, composed of five rows of brilliant-cut diamonds set in platinum. “It’s.. It’s incredible,” she choked, fluttering her eyes to force back tears.  
  
“Put on the dress,” Sirius urged, kissing her lightly on the neck.  
  
Evelyn nodded, quickly pulling on the off-white gown. Sirius assisted her in zipping the dress closed. “It’s a lovely dress,” he affirmed, gazing at their reflection in the mirror.  
  
“It is,” Evelyn sighed, lacing her fingers between his.   
  
“Here, let me help you put on the necklace,” he offered, grabbing the box from off of the bed.   
  
Evelyn stood still as he carefully clasped the necklace closed, his fingers delicately stroking her collarbone.   
  
“Siri, it’s-”  
  
“Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of it’s beauty,” he interrupted, kissing her shoulder. “Come on, we need to be going. The gala awaits.”

* * *

Sirius gripped his tumbler of firewhiskey ferociously, tossing back the contents. The gala had been going on in full swing for nearly two hours, yet Sirius had yet to succeed in putting a single Ministry official under the Imperius. _No thanks to Lucius, that goddamn bloody-_  
  
“Sirius,” Evelyn said sharply, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
“Yes, dear?” he asked through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his voice down.  
  
“We need to go greet the Minister of Magic and his wife,” she said calmly, gripping his arm. “This is my first event as lead chair, and it would be _nice_ if you’d play the role of gracious host so I don’t have to spend the whole fucking evening wandering around alone,” she whispered angrily into his ear, her fingernails digging into his forearm.   
  
“You know I have something I’m supposed to be doing,” he hissed, forcing a smile as he allowed her to lead him towards the Minister and his wife.  
  
“Then why haven’t you managed to get it done and over with, yet?” she retorted, waving at other guests as they passed by.  
  
“Malfoy,” Sirius muttered, frowning as he caught sight of the familiar blond watching the pair.  
  
Throughout the evening, Lucius had lingered nearby Sirius, watching his every move. Though he had come close to putting several officials under the curse, Lucius had seen that he hadn’t succeeded, muttering counter-curses and casting shielding charms over the officials, rendering Sirius’ efforts useless.  
  
“Just come on and greet the Minister and his wife with me and then you can go back to your mission. It’s almost time for the auction, anyway,” Evelyn replied, her smile unwavering.  
  
“Yes dear.”  
  
As Sirius began to make his way towards Barty Crouch, he felt a hand grab him by the shoulder. “Sirius,” a booming voice greeted him.  
  
Struggling to suppress a groan, Sirius turned around, offering Ludo Bagman a courteous smile. “Hello there, Ludo. Having a good time?” he asked, forcing a grin.  
  
“Yes, yes. Evelyn did a wonderful job, planning all of this. They’ve already raised nearly one hundred thousand galleons for the hospital, from the first auction, alone” Bagman noted, grinning brightly.   
  
“I’m sure they’ll raise double that from the bachelor auction,” Sirius laughed. “I’m sure many of these fine women will pay handsomely for a date with an internationally famous quidditch player.”  
  
“Indeed,” Ludo agreed, beaming. “However, I’ve heard plenty of talk about your dear brother. Apparently, he may be the bachelor to beat this evening.”  
  
Sirius nodded, smirking. “I think that Evelyn is gathering the bachelors, now. Must be due to begin the auction at any minute, now,” he noted, nodding towards Evelyn, who was standing amongst half a dozen quidditch players in the corner of the ballroom.  
  
“Oh, I best be on my way, then. Good to see you, Sirius,” Ludo said cheerfully, before turning his back and heading towards the growing crowd around Evelyn.  
  
Sighing, Sirius turned his sights back to Barty Crouch. “Mr. Crouch,” he said warmly, interrupting the man’s conversation with a regal looking woman.   
  
“Hello Sirius,” the man greeted him warmly, clasping him on the shoulder.   
  
“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Sirius asked, offering the pair a warm smile. “Evelyn’s a bit wrapped up with the upcoming auction, so I thought it best that I take the reigns on offering our hellos to everyone,” he said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink.   
  
“Of course. It’s been a lovely evening. Your wife has outdone herself with this gala... I just spoke with the director of the hospital...”  
  
Sirius smiled politely as the pair sang praises for his wife, his eyes darting around suspiciously for any sign of Malfoy. He grinned, seeing that the coast was clear. As Mrs. Crouch began discussing an upcoming charity event for the Ministry, Sirius gripped his wand in his pocket, staring intently at Mr. Crouch. Silently, he cast _Imperio_. He frowned, seeing that the curse had done nothing. He turned his head, catching sight of long blond hair. _Malfoy_. He shook his head, turning his attention back to the Crouches. “I’m sure that Evelyn would be thrilled to assist in planning that event, Mrs. Crouch. You’ll have to stop by for tea sometime,” he noted, smile firmly in place, once again. 

* * *

It was nearly three in the morning by the time Sirius and Evelyn floo’d home. The minute the pair entered their drawing room, Sirius’ demeanor changed; while he had forced a smile for the entirety of the event, graciously greeting guests and playing the role of well-bred society host, he now allowed his foul mood to show. Evelyn eyed him warily as he pulled off his dress robes, discarding them on the floor.   
  
“I can’t believe that slimy git sabotaged my mission,” he snarled, nearly stumbling over a chair as he made his way to the liquor cabinet.  
  
Evelyn watched on as he poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, obviously inebriated, as he over-poured, splashing liquor onto their hardwood floor. “Fuck,” he mumbled, bringing the glass to his lips and draining the contents.   
  
He wiped carelessly at his mouth with the back of his hand, before turning his attention back to the bottle of firewhiskey. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused, watching as he poured himself another glass.   
  
“He _knew_ I had been assigned to put Ministry officials under the Imperius tonight, Evie!” Sirius shouted, pacing about the room angrily.  
  
He paused before her, his gray eyes shining with fury. _He’s drunk. Very drunk. And enraged. Wonderful._ She sighed, watching him carefully. “I’m sorry, my darling. Still, you’ve had so much success prior to this incident, I’m sure-”  
  
“He sabotaged me _on purpose_ , Evelyn! He was there when Voldemort gave me the assignment... Yet he sabotaged me simply to spite me!” he interrupted, tossing back the remainder of his drink.  
  
“Sirius, darling, calm down.. It’s not a big deal,” Evelyn began, pausing as she saw Sirius’ eyes flicker with anger.   
  
“It _is_ a big deal, Evelyn,” he yelled, snarling.  
  
“I just... This was important and... I... I never fail at _anything_ that I attempt and I just.. Fuck!” he screamed, clenching his fist and punching the mirror hanging on the wall, directly behind Evelyn.   
  
A gasp of shock escaped her lips as she scurried away from him, eyeing the shards of glass littering the floor, horrified.  
  
She watched him momentarily, as he swayed standing in place, staring down at his fist, which was bleeding profusely.   
  
“Sirius,” she began, slowly approaching him.   
  
“It’s just _bullshit_ , Evie! What am I going to do? What am I going to tell him?” he slurred, waving his arms about, incredulously.  
  
He brought his glass to his lips, and upon seeing that it was empty, frowned, hurtling the glass at the wall, shards of crystal glimmering in the low light as they settled onto the floor.  
  
“Fucking _Malfoy_ ,” Sirius fumed, breathing heavily.   
  
“Sirius Orion Black,” Evelyn snapped, stepping forward and grabbing him by the wrist.   
  
“What?” he snarled, pulling back from her.  
  
“Spare me. This isn’t your fucking fault, and you need to cut it the fuck out. Voldemort is already well aware of Lucius’ jealousy. He will not fault you for your failure in the mission,” she began, gripping his wrist tighter.  
  
“Tomorrow morning, you will go to him and tell him all about Lucius’ interference. I’m sure Regulus would be more than happy to vouch for you. Lucius has already been accused of playing the role of jilted lover; this behavior further proves that accusation. _He_ will be the one punished, not you.”  
  
Sirius nodded, letting his arms fall limply at his side, swaying slightly.  
  
“Siri, my darling, I love you, but you’re drunk and you’re not in your right state of mind right now,” she continued, her tone softer, warmer now. “You’re fine. Voldemort will not blame you. And Lucius will be punished fairly for his treachery. Now come on, let’s go to bed and I’ll heal your hand. Okay?” she continued, stroking his hair soothingly.  
  
“Okay,” Sirius agreed, sighing heavily.   
  
Evelyn smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair from out of Sirius’ face, tucking it behind his ear. “Let’s get to bed, now, we’ve had a long night,” she said softly, taking a hold of his non-injured hand and leading him out of the drawing room towards the stairs.


	15. Chapter 15

Evelyn sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea, when she heard knocking on the front door. She frowned, rising to her feet. _Who could that even be?_ Most of their visitors came through the floo network, so this sudden knocking at eight in the morning perplexed her. Curiosity getting the best of her, she proceeded to the foyer, where she peered through the peephole. She bit her lip, a bit taken aback by the sight of her former headmaster standing at her door.  
  
“Hello, sir,” she greeted him, hastily opening the door.  
  
“Evelyn,” he said warmly, offering her a smile. “How are you this fine morning?”  
  
“I’m well, thank you,” she replied politely, running her hands nervously over her hips, to smooth down her skirt. _I suppose it’s a good thing I dressed this morning._  
  
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, unsure of how to respond to Dumbledore’s sudden presence in her home early Sunday morning.  
  
“A cup of tea would be lovely,” he assured her, motioning for her to lead the way.  
  
Careful to keep her mind guarded with occlumency, she led him through the parlor, to the kitchen. She grimaced as she caught sight of the shattered glass and mirror shards still settled on the floor. _I knew I should have tidied up first thing this morning._ Once in the kitchen, she offered Dumbledore a seat at the table, while she busied herself in preparing another pot of tea. With shaking hands, she placed a steaming cup before him, quickly turning to refresh her own cup. Forcing a smile, she took a seat opposite him at the table, taking a deep sip of tea. “Is there something I could help you with?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, non-threatening.  
  
“I am here to have a word with Sirius. I never heard back as to the outcome of last night’s mission. I had instructed that he contact me immediately,” Dumbledore replied calmly, taking a sip of tea.   
  
Evelyn frowned, staring down into her cup. “He’s still asleep,” she retorted, careful to keep her demeanor neutral. “We had a long night.”  
  
“I’m afraid that I must insist. The matter is urgent,” Dumbledore pressed, his blue eyes gazing intently at her.  
  
Evelyn froze, feeling her posture stiffen. “With all due respect, _sir_ , I think that it would be best if you were to wait to speak with him until he wakes. He’s had a very long night. He needs his rest,” she replied icily, raising her cup to her lips, taking a prim sip.  
  
“Mrs. Black, I’m afraid that the matter is urgent. Please, if you would be so kind as to wake him,” Dumbledore retorted, his gaze unwavering.  
  
Evelyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. “Very well,” she sighed, rising to her feet. “If you will excuse me.”

* * *

Sirius woke to Evelyn lightly shaking him by the shoulder. “Siri, wake up,” she said brusquely, shaking him a bit harder.  
  
“Hmm...what?” he mumbled, instinctively reaching to grab his forehead. _Fuck. My head is throbbing._  
  
“Dumbledore is here to see you,” she hissed, her brows furrowed.  
  
“Tell him I’m sleeping. I have a bloody hangover,” he grumbled, making to pull the comforter back over his head.  
  
“Get your ass out of bed and speak to him,” she said sharply, pulling the covers back from off of him.  
  
She sighed, covering her eyes with her hand for a moment. “I _tried_ to get him to leave. He was very _insistent_ on speaking with you. Immediately.”  
  
Sirius groaned. “Fine. Fine. Give me a minute, I’ll get dressed,” he grumbled, throwing his feet to the edge of the bed and forcing himself out of bed.  
  
“I’ll get you a hangover potion, love,” Evelyn said softly, turning on her heel towards the bathroom.  
  
Sirius carelessly pulled on an old tee shirt he found lying by the side of the bed, not particularly caring whether or not it was dirty. He stepped into a pair of jeans, before joining Evelyn in the bathroom.   
  
“Here,” she said calmly, handing him a vial.  
  
Sirius took the vial gratefully, uncorking it and downing the contents in a single gulp.   
  
“What’s he want, anyway?” Sirius asked, beginning to feel much better.  
  
“He said you were supposed to report back to him about last night _immediately_. He didn’t hear anything from you, so he showed up.”  
  
Sirius sighed. “Fuck.”  
  
Grudgingly, Sirius followed Evelyn down the stairs, to the kitchen.  
  
“Hello,” Sirius greeted his former headmaster shortly, making a beeline for the tea kettle.  
  
He poured himself a cup, busying himself with preparing his tea.  
  
At last, he took a seat beside Evelyn at the table, peering at Dumbledore carefully. “You needed a word with me?” he asked, his tone even.  
  
“Evelyn, if you would excuse us for a moment?” Dumbledore asked, turning his attention to the blonde.  
  
Evelyn paused for a moment, opened her mouth to object, then closed it, rising to her feet. “Very well,” she noted sourly, retreating from the room.  
  
Dumbledore stared intently at Sirius for a moment, his eyes twinkling. “I never heard from you last night. How did your mission go?”  
  
“I didn’t bother writing you since I had nothing to report,” Sirius retorted, scowling. “It was a failure. I wasn’t able to complete the mission.”  
  
He stared down at his tea, the anger again beginning to well up inside him. He had calmed down some since the night before, but the very mention of the mission stirred him up, again.   
  
Dumbledore frowned, peering carefully over his tea at him. “What do you mean, you failed?” he asked.  
  
“I mean that my mission was sabotaged,” Sirius replied sharply, his lips twisting into a scowl. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”  
  
“This is unacceptable, Sirius.”  
  
Sirius looked up from his tea, incredulous.  
  
“I have stressed upon you how important it is that you gain Voldemort’s trust. You are on the cusp of being welcomed into his inner circle, and yet you failed,” Dumbledore began, still frowning.   
  
“This error could very well set you back considerably. You were _so close_ , Sirius,” he continued, contemptuously.  
  
“Spare me,” Sirius snapped, rolling his eyes. “ _I’m_ the only reason we’ve gotten as far as we have with this mission.”  
  
Dumbledore eyed him cautiously, his stare unwavering.  
  
Sirius slammed his fist against the table, finding Dumbledore’s silence even more enraging than his chastising words. “You wouldn’t know half of what you do about Voldemort and his Death Eaters if it weren’t for me,” he shouted, again slamming his fist against the table.  
  
“Sirius, you need to get your anger under control and focus on the importance of the task at hand. You have failed this mission and therefore must work thrice harder to earn Voldemort’s trust and make up for your failings,” Dumbledore continued, apparently unperturbed by Sirius’ outburst.  
  
Sirius laughed, incredulously. “Why is it that when _I_ need something, _I_ need your assistance with something, I’m forced to wait days on end for a response, yet when I don’t report back to you quickly enough about something, you show up at my doorstep looking for me?”  
  
He rose to his feet, staring accusingly at the man before him. “You only seem to have any interest in me when it’s of convenience to you,” Sirius sneered, Voldemort’s words repeating in his head.   
  
“What’s going on?” Evelyn asked, poking her head in from the doorway.  
  
“Professor Dumbledore was just leaving,” Sirius retorted, shooting a disdainful look in the man’s direction.   
  
“I apologize for my failures, _sir_. I will be sure to report back to you when I have any actual news to report,” he sneered, his lips curled into a hateful scowl.

* * *

“Sirius,” Voldemort said warmly, ushering Sirius into his office.  
  
“My lord,” Sirius said lowly, nodding his head in respect.  
  
“Have a seat, please,” Voldemort began, motioning for him to take a seat.  
  
Sirius obeyed, his eyes lowered, staring down at his feet.  
  
“How was the gala?” Voldemort queried, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
“I’m afraid that it didn’t go well,” Sirius said quietly, still refusing to maintain eye contact.  
  
“I see,” Voldemort started, frowning. “What happened?”  
  
Sirius glanced up, nervously chewing on his lower lip. “My attempts at successfully putting any Ministry officials under the Imperius Curse were sabotaged,” he stated, his words coming out calmer than he currently felt at the moment.  
  
Voldemort nodded, rising to his feet. “Would I be incorrect in assuming that it was Lucius Malfoy who interfered with your attempts?” he asked, beginning to pace the room.  
  
“That would be correct, sir.”  
  
Voldemort paused a moment, peering over at him. “Amazing, isn’t it, Sirius? The pomposity of one of my followers. How appalling that one of my allegedly _loyal_ followers would purposely hinder my work from being done, for his own selfish reasons.”  
  
Sirius remained silent, unsure of what to say.  
  
“I apologize for my failure, my lord,” he said at last, sighing heavily.  
  
Voldemort laughed, leaving Sirius with a perplexed look on his face.  
  
“It isn’t your fault, Sirius,” he explained, returning to his seat behind his desk.  
  
“Still-”  
  
“Still what? The situation was out of your control. I can’t fault you for the failure of the mission. There is not much that can be done when someone is setting shielding charms to keep you from completing your task.” He paused, folding his hands and placing them on the desk. “I assume that was what he was doing?”  
  
Sirius nodded. “He followed me around the entire evening. Every time I got close enough to anyone and attempted to put the curse on them, there he would be, casting shielding spells so that nothing I did had any effect.”  
  
Voldemort frowned, his lips forming a scowl. “As I told you before, Sirius. It is quite a burden to be extraordinary. This should come as no surprise. For those of us who are truly gifted, there will always be _someone_ watching us, waiting to attempt to destroy us, due to their own incessant jealousy.”  
  
Sirius nodded, watching reverently as Voldemort continued.  
  
“I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy will be punished accordingly,” he sneered, his sharp canine teeth visible as he grinned.   
  
He paused for a moment, considering. “In fact,” he began, smiling broadly at Sirius, “you proved to be quite an asset in terms of soliciting the support of the werewolves.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
“Perhaps you should assume the recruitment duties that Lucius has abysmally failed in completing,” Voldemort suggested.   
  
“If it is what you wish, my lord,” Sirius replied, unable to contain a grin.  
  
“I have no doubt that you will be a great success in gaining the support of other dark creatures. And perhaps you would be a better fit in selecting soon to be graduating Hogwarts students to join our ranks.”  
  
“It would be an honor, my lord.”  
  
“Very good. I will inform Lucius that you shall be assuming his duties, henceforth. You may go now.”

* * *

“Lucius,” Evelyn smiled, offering the blond man a half-hearted hug. “Please, have a seat.”  
  
As had become a weekly ritual, Evelyn had written her former lover, asking that he meet her for a drink. The pair quickly ordered and fell into their usual banal conversation, with Lucius attempting to reminisce about their shared past and Evelyn sharply changing the subject. “The gala went well,” Lucius noted, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
“I suppose,” Evelyn replied vaguely, frowning down into her martini glass. _They put too much vermouth in this. Should have gone with just straight gin._  
  
“You _suppose_?” Lucius asked incredulously. “You raised more money from this gala than the past three combined.”  
  
She frowned, offering him a disdainful look. “It’s not about that,” she started, taking a prim sip of her drink.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“I have to admit that I was not pleased with your behavior at the gala, Lucius,” Evelyn elaborated, bringing her glass to her lips, again.  
  
He stared at her, silent, his eyes clouding with anger.  
  
“You purposely sabotaged my husband,” she continued, staring coldly back.  
  
Again, Lucius remained silent, continuing to stare her down.  
  
“I don’t understand what your problem is with Sirius, but this will _not_ continue, Lucius. You were well aware that _he_ was given a specific task to handle at the gala. What, are you jealous?” she quipped, smirking coldly.  
  
“Why would I be jealous of _him_?” he sneered, reaching for his drink.  
  
Evelyn continued to smirk, raising her glass to her lips. She took a sip, slamming the now-empty glass hard onto the table. “I suppose it’s understandable,” she began, offering him a cruel smile. “Trapped in a loveless marriage, plagued by the besmirch on your family name due to your father’s degenerate gambling problem... that much be hard enough of a burden to bear. I can see why you took so quickly to _his_ cause, eager to prove your worth. I imagine that is why it must be _so very hard_ for you to see yourself being so quickly surpassed by someone else in every single way.”  
  
Lucius’ hand snapped out, taking a tight grip on Evelyn’s wrist. He squeezed tightly, locking eyes with her.   
  
“I hardly think that it was wrong of me to spare him the embarrassment of getting caught, Evie,” he started, laughing coldly.  
  
Evelyn glared at him, not needing to use legilimency to know that he was lying. “Bullshit,” she hissed, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“Piss off, Evelyn. Allow me to remind you of where your place is as a _wife_ ,” he sneered, twisting her wrist sharply, smirking as she winced from the pain. “Stay out of the men’s business that doesn’t concern you,” he concluded, releasing her from his grasp.

* * *

Sirius stood beside Regulus, calmly awaiting Voldemort’s arrival. Regulus was chattering nonsensically about the young witch who had won him in the charity auction, but he paid him no mind. Instead, he scanned the room, searching for Lucius. He felt a rush of adrenaline pump through his veins as he caught sight of him entering the room. Sirius clenched his fists, his lips curling into a snarl.   
  
“Sirius, don’t,” Regulus hissed, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  
  
Lucius strode purposefully towards him, his lips curled into a sneer.  
  
“ _Black_ ,” he drawled, his eyes glimmering with hatred.  
  
“Malfoy,” Sirius retorted, through gritted teeth.  
  
“I spoke with Evelyn today... how pathetic it is, sending your woman to fight your battles for you.”  
  
Sirius remained silent, blinded with rage.  
  
“How typical that a blood-traitor would be a coward, as well-”  
  
Lucius had barely gotten his last word out before Sirius had grabbed him by the collar, punching him square in the jaw. He swung back his arm and struck again, harder this time. Lucius staggered backward, blood gushing from his nose, while Sirius maintained a tight grip on him, taking swing after swing at him.   
  
“Who’s the coward now?” he snarled, shoving Lucius to the ground, ignorant to the fact that surrounding Death Eaters were watching their skirmish, enthralled.  
  
He bent down, so that he was barely a few inches above Malfoy, who lay on the floor, gasping for breath. “I told you before, _Malfoy_ , and I’ll tell you again. Stay. Away. From. My. Wife.” He paused a moment, offering Lucius an insincere grin. “My wife only met with you because this was exactly what she _didn’t_ want to happen.”  
  
He rose back up, smirking in satisfaction as Lucius looked up at him, apparently in too much pain to protest. “Be sure to remind yourself, this was just a warning. Interfere with _anything_ , ever again, and next time I assure you, you won't be able to walk away.”  
  
Sirius turned his attention to Snape, who lingered a few feet away, watching on, his wand pointed at him. “Why don’t you help your friend clean himself up, _Snivellus_?” he smirked, brandishing his own wand. “I know cleanliness isn’t your strong suit, you slimy git, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

* * *

Sirius stared down into his firewhiskey, brooding. After the unpleasantness at the Death Eater meeting, he had apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, in dire need of a stiff drink. Regulus had joined him shortly after. “I just don’t like to fail,” Sirius muttered, sighing heavily.  
  
“You always have been a perfectionist, brother,” Regulus noted, shaking his head.  
  
“I would just hate for this failure to reflect poorly on me, after everything,” Sirius continued, taking a sip of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
“I hardly think that you need to worry about that, Sirius,” Regulus scoffed. “Voldemort is quite taken with you. He’s had high praises for your talents.”  
  
“Do you think Malfoy went to him about the incident before the meeting?”  
  
Regulus laughed. “Malfoy is a lot of things; a crybaby is not one of them. Besides, I hardly think it would look good for him to go crying that you beat him to a bloody pulp with your bare hands when he’s already not in the dark lord’s good graces.”  
  
Regulus eyed him carefully. “I heard he gave you Lucius’ recruitment assignments.”  
  
Sirius nodded, affirming the statement.  
  
Regulus laughed, finishing his drink. “You really did a number on him, Sirius. I know that you two have never gotten on well, but still...”  
  
“I hate him, Reg,” Sirius started, draining the contents of his glass. “He’s a right git and I wish he’d stay the fuck away from my wife.”  
  
Regulus frowned. “Ah... yeah. I suppose you’re none too thrilled that the two still see one another regularly, eh?”  
  
Sirius gave him a pointed look, motioning to the bartender to refresh his drink.  
  
“I would just be careful about letting him be alone with her, is all,” Regulus said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.   
  
“What makes you say that, Regulus?” Sirius asked sharply, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
Regulus sighed, swirling the contents of his tumbler. “It was a long time ago, Sirius, but um...” he stared down, as if considering his words.  
  
“They were together for a long time, Sirius. There’s a lot of history there. And you know he still... He still wants her. Badly. I don’t think that he ever expected for her to just up and marry someone. Especially not you.”  
  
Sirius nodded, silently urging him to continue.  
  
“You know that he married Cissy for her money. Evelyn was his true love. So losing her as a mistress was a bit hard for him to swallow, I think. You know how Lucius is, Sirius... he has no problem doing whatever is necessary to get what he wants. And if he wants Evelyn, well... you don’t really know what he could do.”  
  
Sirius nodded, struggling to maintain his exterior mask of indifference. Internally, his blood was boiling. _I need another drink_. “Well,” he started smugly, raising his glass to his lips, “after this afternoon, I daresay he’ll think twice before trying anything.”


	16. Chapter 16

Sirius rose to his feet, unsteady. He and Regulus had been drinking for hours. His suggestion to stay for another round had been politely declined; “I’m sure your wife would like for you to get home,” Regulus smirked, calling over the bartender to pay his tab.  
  
“Probably,” Sirius agreed, reaching into his robes for his wallet. He ordered a final shot of firewhiskey, paying his tab.   
  
“So, what are you going to do about Evelyn?” Reg asked, eyeing Sirius critically as he tossed back his shot of firewhiskey.  
  
Sirius sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “She and I will have a chat... I don’t want her alone around him. Haven’t from the start... old prejudices notwithstanding. It’s inappropriate. I mean, Merlin, she’s my _wife_... She wouldn’t stand for my socializing with any of the girls I’ve slept with over the years.”  
  
“Merlin, no. Evelyn has always ruled with an iron fist,” Regulus agreed.  
  
“I suppose you’re right. Evelyn has always been... I don’t know. Not your typical submissive pure-blooded girl.”  
  
“Which is why she’s perfect for you; she won’t put up with your shite,” Regulus cackled, smiling at his brother.  
  
“I’m glad you came back, Sirius,” he added, his tone softer.  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, clapping Regulus on the back. “Me too, Reg.”

* * *

Sirius stumbled through the streets of London, his vision doubled. _Best not to risk apparating and end up splinching myself._ The sight of a muggle, a younger man with a bottle of cheap whiskey clutched in his fist caught his attention. Sirius reached in his pocket for his wand, eyes still locked on the man. _Crucio_. He watched on, satisfied, as the man fell to his knees, convulsing, his limbs flailing as he writhed in pain. The man’s cries fell on deaf ears; smirking, Sirius continued on his way, his wand hidden beneath his cloak. _It’s really not that difficult._ Sirius felt vindicated, some of his pent-up aggression alleviated.  
  
As he continued on, a young man stumbled into him, grabbing onto Sirius’ arm to steady his balance. “Twenty pounds for full service, love,” he murmured, his breath hot on Sirius’ neck. Sirius scowled, shoving the man away from him; he was a rent boy, dressed in tight leather trousers and from the looks of it, strung out on some sort of illicit substance. “Oh come on, now. With that hair of yours, I bet you love the co-”  
  
“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” Sirius muttered, pointing his wand at the boy. He watched as life drained from the boy, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction as his body collapsed to the ground, his skull making a loud thud as it collided with concrete.  
  
As he crossed the street, he stumbled on the curb, nearly falling flat on his face. He paused a moment, grabbing a hold of a nearby streetlight to support himself. He stared out into the street, watching as cars sped by, the city still busy and full of life despite the late hour. He took deep breaths, trying to clear his head. The bright lights of streetlights and headlights flashed before his eyes, his vision swimming. He swayed slightly to the right, nearly toppling over, yet again. _I’m drunk. So, so, so drunk._ He hadn’t intended to drink _that_ much. “Regulus,” he muttered, fluttering his eyes open and shut, in an attempt to clear his vision. His plan of _walking it off_ , was not going well. Despite the freezing cold, he was still blindingly inebriated. _This is all Reg’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten me all worked up about Lucius, I wouldn’t have kept drinking._ He sighed, taking his grip off of the streetlight. He swayed slightly, his balance still off, but stayed upright, nonetheless.  
  
Sirius pulled his cloak closer to him, only acutely aware of the bitter cold winds sweeping about him. Warmth radiated through his body, adrenaline shooting through his veins. _Killing someone’s not so hard._ His cold laughter echoed in the silence of the city streets. _It isn’t so bad. It’s easy._ He walked past the Ministry headquarters, coming to a halt as he reached the visitor entrance. He scowled, thinking back to his disastrous meeting with Dumbledore. _That arrogant berk. So condescending._ He felt anger well up in his chest, recalling the conversation exchanged between the two less than twenty-four hours prior. _You have failed this mission and therefore must work thrice harder to earn Voldemort’s trust and make up for your failings._ Sirius laughed bitterly, his hands balling up into fists. _Shows what he knows. Voldemort understood. He still rewarded me for my contributions. He recognizes my skill, my talent._  
  
He proceeded to continue on down the street, anger still coursing through his veins. _Dumbledore._ Of course it was him he was actually angry with. He was to blame for his foul mood. _Telling me I should be working thrice harder to prove myself. I’ll show him thrice harder._ He passed by another pub, one frequented by both muggles and wizards. _Mostly half-bloods._ He caught sight of Willie McMallian, an obnoxious classmate of his. _Typical Hufflepuff. He always was so annoying._ Sirius watched as Willie pressed a young blonde against the brick wall of an alleyway, one hand on the girl’s waist, the other up her shirt. He scowled as he caught sight of the girl’s skirt bunched up at her waist, her head lolled against her shoulder, and Willie’s fly open. Without hesitation, he drew out his wand. _Avada Kedavra._ He smirked, watching the girl cry out in horror as Willie went limp and collapsed to the ground, dead weight. He laughed as he caught sight of his right hand, still up the blonde’s blouse. Carefully, he returned his wand to his pocket, continuing on his way. 

* * *

“Something needs to be done, Severus,” Lucius hissed, staring into the fireplace.   
  
The flames crackled, heat radiating from the burning embers. “I agree. However, I think it would be foolish to act hastily. The dark lord sees him as a valuable asset to his cause,” Snape replied, his lips drawn into a tight scowl.   
  
“Something must be done, Severus. He’s up to something, I’m certain of it.”  
  
“What are you suggesting we do, Lucius? The circumstances call for subtlety,” Snape replied dully, rising from his seat and beginning to pace before the fire.  
  
Lucius had called Snape to Malfoy manor to discuss the impending _Black_ problem. After a brief greeting from Narcissa, she had excused herself to her bedroom. _Presumably to cry over the fact that he doesn’t love her_ , Snape thought wryly.   
  
“What are you inferring, _Severus_?” Lucius asked, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“It was a mistake to sabotage his mission at the gala, Lucius. You are aware of that, aren’t you?” Snape retorted, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“What was I supposed to do, Sev? There’s no denying that _Black_ is talented, powerful. Should I have gone right ahead and let him put every Ministry official under the Imperius? Voldemort would have probably made him his second-in-command if he’d succeeded,” Lucius snarled.   
  
“I fear that your personal issues with Black are interfering with your judgment in how to handle this matter,” Snape continued, frowning. “You must put your personal vendetta aside and focus on what really matters; exposing Black for the traitor that he is.”  
  
“As if you don’t have your own personal grudges against him. He nearly had you killed, Sev-”  
  
“An incident which I told you in confidence. And while I admit that I would like nothing more than to see the arrogant prick get what he deserves, I can compartmentalize and focus on the matter at hand. Now is not the time nor place to let either of our personal qualms cloud our judgment.”  
  
“I don’t know what she sees in him,” Lucius muttered, staring into the flames.  
  
“Don’t tell me that _she_ is what this is about,” Snape retorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
“As if you’re not still pining over your mud-blood redhead,” Lucius snapped, accusingly.  
  
“Don’t call her that,” Snape said lowly, fury welling in his eyes. “I have accepted that she will never be mine and have moved on. I don’t and won’t let any feelings I may harbor towards her influence my better judgment.”  
  
“Of course. So you haven’t begged the dark lord to spare her life. I know you, Severus. You’re just as bad, if not worse. At least Evelyn is a respectable woman. From a good family.”  
  
“Lily Evans is a beautiful, kind, brilliant woman. Even though she married that fool Potter, it changes nothing. You will _not_ speak down towards her in front of me, _Lucius_ ,” Snape growled, his eyes shooting daggers at the blond.  
  
“She _should_ be with me. Evelyn and I were meant for each other. I would have married her, Severus. I would have. My back was against the wall... I had no choice... Familial obligations...” he ran his hands through his hair, gritting his teeth.   
  
“For all of his pomposity and arrogance, Lucius, I do believe that he really _does_ love her, painful as it is to admit.”  
  
“I loved her first,” Lucius pouted, crossing his arms.  
  
“Being that I was very close with Lily during my early years at school, I can _assure_ you Lucius that Evelyn spent many a dark night cozied up with _Black_ ,” Snape continued, his lips twisting into a frown. _I doubt it will ever stop being painful to think about her. Lily. When we were still close. When I mattered to her._  
  
“Get to the point, Severus. How would your pining over the mud-blood make you privy to such knowledge?” Lucius asked, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Lily _asked_ me about Evelyn. She was curious. She thought it peculiar... That _Black_ generally acted so nastily and rudely towards Slytherins, yet was close with and sweet to _her_.”  
  
Lucius remained silent, his gaze directed into the flames.  
  
Snape sighed heavily, crossing his arms against his chest. “You don’t get it, do you Lucius? Just as for Lily it’s always been _Potter_ , it’s always been _Black_ for Evelyn. Even when she _was_ yours, it was still him. They wanted who they wanted, and neither of us ever stood a chance. Such is our lot in life.”  
  
“Since when have I ever let anyone keep what I want from me, Sev? If I can’t have it, I _take_ it.”  
  
Sev observed him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “You aren’t suggesting... She’d hate you, for it.”  
  
Lucius shrugged. “I don’t care. She probably already does. So long as it means I could have her again, does it even matter?”  
  
Snape frowned. “I think you underestimate her. Evelyn is not weak. If you were to try to.... She’d put up a fight. For all her uppity high society sensibilities, there’s no denying that she’s an intelligent and powerful witch. If I recall, she was in the top five of her class in every subject she took. Correct?”  
  
Lucius sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. “ _If_ that were the case... I would do what needed to be done. If I can’t have her, no one can.”  
  
Snape paused, thoughtful. “Black tried to have me killed simply because he hated me. He didn’t even need a reason. He’d outright murder you in cold blood if you were to do that.”   
  
Lucius scowled, reaching for his tumbler of firewhiskey, abandoned on the side table beside him. “I’d like to see him try.”

* * *

Blearily, Sirius trudged downstairs to the kitchen, in dire need of a strong cup of tea.  
  
“Late night?” Evelyn asked, looking up from the paper she was reading.  
  
“I suppose it was,” Sirius agreed, making a beeline for the kettle on the stove. He hastily fixed himself a cup of tea, joining Evelyn at the kitchen table.  
  
“How did it go with Voldemort?” she asked, the paper still opened, blocking his view of her.  
  
“It went well. He understood, as you said he would.”  
  
“Excellent. And Lucius?” Evelyn asked, reaching for her coffee cup.  
  
“He was punished for his regrettable behavior. Voldemort gave me Lucius’ recruiting missions,” Sirius replied, bringing his cup to his lips. He took a deep sip, relishing in the warmth of the liquid pouring down his throat.  
  
“I also beat the piss out of him,” he added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
“What?” Evelyn asked, a hint of alarm in her voice.  
  
“He made a wise-ass crack about getting my woman to fight my battles for me. So I punched his face in. Fucking weasel,” Sirius smirked, shaking his head. “For all that talk, he really is a wimp. He couldn’t even get a fucking swing in.”  
  
Evelyn folded up the paper, placing it neatly beside her. “Wait a minute,” she began, looking at him disbelievingly, “you’re telling me you beat him with your bare hands.?”  
  
Sirius nodded, unable to hide looking rather pleased with himself.  
  
“In front of all the death eaters?” she prompted.  
  
“Yeah. They all just watched on. No one intervened or anything,” Sirius replied gleefully.  
  
“Well,” she sighed, reaching for her cup, “I can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”  
  
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, each focused on sipping their respective drinks.  
  
“What time did you get in?” she asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“Dunno. Four, maybe. I was out with Reg at the pub,” Sirius shrugged, racking his brain for any recollection as to what hour he had stumbled home at.  
  
Evelyn nodded, bringing her cup to her lips. She took a dainty sip, quietly observing him. “You look awful. I suppose you got plastered last night?”  
  
“Yeah. Given what a trying day it was, I thought I’d earned it.”  
  
Evelyn shoved the paper towards him. “You know anything about this?” she asked, reaching for her cup of coffee.  
  
Sirius scanned the paper, pausing at the sight of the headline of a smaller article on the front page: **Three Found Dead in London**. Sirius smirked, placing the paper back on the table. _Made the front page, I see._  
  
“Seeing as you left the _front door_ open when you came in, I’m guessing it’s safe to assume you walked home from the Leaky Cauldron?” she prompted, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“I got totally pissed, Evie. I figured it’d be best to walk it off, rather than end up splinching myself.”  
  
“Was it you and Reg?” she asked, peering at him from over her coffee cup.  
  
“I was drunk, Evelyn. And angry. Dumbledore told me to do what I must to earn Voldemort’s trust, right?” he asked.  
  
“He did,” Evelyn agreed, sighing.  
  
“I figured a few random kills would help that effort. I’m sure Voldemort will be pleased. More press for him. Besides,” he paused, taking a sip of his tea, “McMallian totally deserved it.”  
  
“Being an annoying prat is hardly a crime, my dear,” Evelyn sighed.  
  
“He was raping some girl in the alleyway. He got what he deserved,” Sirius replied darkly.  
  
Evelyn paused a moment, looking thoughtful. “Well then... I suppose you’re right. I suppose if you _must_ kill, at least you’re using your power for good and not evil,” she noted, laughing lightly.   
  
“Given the unpleasantness at the Death Eater meeting, I’m assuming your chat with Malfoy didn’t go well,” Sirius noted, changing the subject.  
  
Evelyn sighed. “No, I suppose it didn’t. He was not too keen on my calling him out.”  
  
“I don’t want you to see him anymore, Evelyn,” Sirius said firmly, lips pursed.  
  
“But Dumbledore-”  
  
“Fuck Dumbledore. You’re my wife. I don’t trust him around you...” he trailed off, frowning, his eyes clouding with anger, once again.  
  
“I can take care of myself, Siri. I’m not afraid of him,” she started, lightly placing her hand over his.   
  
Sirius sighed, frowning. “I don’t doubt that for a second, my love. But still... Everyone knows he’s still in love you. He wants you. And Malfoy is the sort who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”  
  
“He was such a good source for information, though,” Evelyn protested.  
  
Sirius shook his head. “I don’t care. You’ve done more than enough, helping me with my mission. I can take it from here. You can still try and pry information from him, I just don’t want you to be alone with him,” he continued, offering her a soft smile.  
  
“Malfoy can be dangerous. I don’t want him snapping and taking the role of jilted lover too far, Evie.”  
  
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “I’ll admit that thought has crossed my mind,” she noted, smiling sheepishly. “He grabbed my arm and twisted it when we met yesterday. Got pretty nasty telling me to stay out of the _men’s business_.”  
  
Sirius’ jaw clenched as he felt a surge of rage course through his veins. “He _laid his hands_ on you?” he asked, through gritted teeth.  
  
“It’s okay, Sirius, I’m okay,” Evelyn assured him, lightly touching his arm. “Please calm down.”  
  
“How _dare_ he lay his hands on my _wife_. I’m glad I beat the piss out of him. Bloody fucking _wanker_. He should consider himself lucky I didn’t _kill_ him,” Sirius snarled, slamming the table with his fist.  
  
“Sirius, please. I’m okay. _We’re_ okay. You’re right... he’s dangerous. I’ll stay away from him,” Evelyn said soothingly, rising to her feet.  
  
She rounded the table, draping her arms around his shoulders, her lips pressed to his neck. “I love you, Siri,” she whispered, her breath hot on his skin.  
  
“I love you too,” he murmured, tilting his head and pulling her closer, to press his lips to hers. “I love you too.”


	17. Chapter 17

Sirius stood beside Greyback as he spoke with the leaders of several other packs from other parts of England, uncertain whether he should join in to their conversation or not. “This is one of Voldemort’s _people_. He was sent to meet with me and secure my support for Voldemort’s cause,” Greyback explained, gesturing towards Sirius.  
  
“And you trust him to keep his word?” another werewolf asked, eyeing Sirius suspiciously. “How can you be certain that Voldemort will keep his word and guarantee his promises to our kind?”  
  
Greyback shrugged. “As this one suggested, joining the cause is a win-win for us, regardless.”  
  
The other werewolves exchanged looks, perplexed. Greyback sighed, visibly irritated. “Regardless the outcome, joining _his_ side gives us free reign to the wizard’s spoils. He encourages blood to be spilled freely. Which is always good for our kind. I’m sure _you_ would prefer the taste of human blood over the sheep blood your pack has been relegated to, Atticus,” he sneered, sharp canine teeth bared.   
  
“Still, why would you trust _this one_ , then? You said before you would only consider alligning with Voldemort if he met with you himself.”  
  
Greyback shrugged. “I’m disappointed that you cannot _sense_ the reason why I saw fit to meet with this one. And why I found him to be trustworthy.”  
  
Again, the other werewolves exchanged confused looks.  
  
“He is marked by one of our own. A wolf that I turned, myself,” Greyback continued, his yellow eyes scanning the crowd surrounding them, pausing on a particular individual.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Sirius followed Greyback’s gaze, catching a glimpse of familiar golden brown hair: _Remus_. Nonchalantly, he took a step closer, in an attempt to get a better view. He took a sharp breath, pressing his lips closed as he felt bile rise in his throat. _Remus_. It was, in fact, his dear friend ( _former friend? Does he still even want to be my friend?_ ) standing in the crowd of werewolves, eyeing Greyback expectantly. Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to tear his eyes from his friend. _He’s a traitor. Dear Merlin_. He reached for his wand, a rush of fear coursing through his veins as Remus’ eyes met his own. Even from the distance, Sirius could see the familiar amber swirls in his forest green eyes, watching him carefully. Sirius glanced down at the ground, his hands trembling. _Fuck. He saw me. He’ll tell the others that I..._ He took a deep breath, nervously running a hand through his hair. He glanced up again, locking eyes with Remus. Remus’ face was blank, offering no clue as to his reaction at seeing him, Sirius, here. _He can’t say anything about me without exposing himself_. Sirius conspicuously tugged down his sleeve. “Your friend has joined us,” Greyback growled in his ear, resting his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.  
  
“It seems he has,” Sirius agreed, keeping his tone neutral.   
  
“Remus Lupin,” Greyback said calmly, his breath hot on Sirius’ neck. “Always a different sort, that one. Was never too _keen_ on joining his own kind.”  
  
Sirius remained silent, barely able to focus on Greyback’s words as Remus stared at him, watching him.  
  
“ _He_ was privileged enough to attend school, wasn’t he?” Greyback queried, clenching Sirius’ shoulder a little tighter. “Has a wand and everything. I suppose he thought he could pretend that he wasn’t one of _us_ , if he hid behind that fool Dumbledore.”  
  
“The tide is turning, I suppose. He must have seen reason if he’s here,” Sirius muttered, shrugging.   
  
“Do _you_ believe that’s the case?” Greyback hissed.  
  
Sirius gulped, his eyes locked with Remus’. “Yes. I do believe so. He’s a good man. He can be trusted.”  
  
“I suppose I can take your word for it,” Greyback said sharply, his fingernails digging deeper into his skin. “For now.”

* * *

Evelyn woke to an empty bed. She glanced at the clock on the wall, taking note of the time. 8 AM. She sighed, pushing the covers off of her. _Where is he?_ She procured her robe from the closet, tying it tightly around her waist. The cool silk felt nice against her warm-from-sleep skin. She tied her hair into a loose knot atop her head, not bothering to take a glance in the mirror before exiting the bedroom. Gracefully, she descended the stairs, entering the sitting room, where she caught sight of a figure with familiar black hair, sprawled out on the couch. Evelyn sighed, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of her husband. _At least he came home_. She smiled fondly at him, taking note of how exquisite he looked in the morning light. Long silky eyelashes, offset by his milky white skin, fluttered slightly. _He must be dreaming_. Deciding to let him sleep for a while longer, Evelyn continued on to the kitchen, where she fixed a kettle for tea, preparing a mug of coffee for herself. She sat at the kitchen table reading the Prophet and sipping her coffee, as had become her morning routine. _While he sleeps off long nights_. She sighed, scanning the paper for any new muggle or mud-blood attacks. To her relief, she found nothing of note. _I wonder what he was off doing if he wasn’t out causing mayhem?_ She frowned, her mind lingering on far more disturbing thoughts. _Or killing anyone_. Once finished her mug of coffee, she rose to her feet, folding the paper shut and leaving it on the table. She briskly entered the sitting room, where Sirius still laid fast asleep on the couch. She quietly approached him, again taking another minute to appreciate the sheer beauty of his stillness. She frowned at the sight of a half-filled tumbler resting on the coffee table. _He was up late drinking. That never bodes well._  
  
“Another late night?” Evelyn asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Hmmm?” Sirius mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glanced about the room, disoriented.   
  
“You fell asleep on the couch,” she offered, nodding pointedly toward the tumbler, still half full of firewhiskey, on the coffee table.  
  
“Wasn't quite ready for bed when I got in,” he offered, shrugging.  
  
“Something on your mind, love?”  
  
Sirius frowned. “No. I'm fine.”  
  
Evelyn raised a single eyebrow. “Okay,” she replied, disbelievingly.   
  
“What?” he snapped, continuing to rub sleep from his eyes.  
  
“You’re hardly one to drink yourself to sleep, Sirius. Something must have happened to put you in such a state,” she retorted calmly, folding her arms against her chest.  
  
“Last night was just... different,” Sirius shrugged, frowning.  
  
“How so?” Evelyn asked, taking a seat beside him.   
  
“I was out with the werewolves last night. At Greyback’s request. Trying to secure support from other packs.”  
  
Evelyn's eyebrows raised in concern, her already light complexion paling a bit. “You didn't get bit, did you?” she asked sharply.  
  
“No, nothing like that,” he assured her.   
  
“So what happened that's bothering you, then?” she pressed, gently placing a hand over his.  
  
Sirius sighed. “Who said anything is bothering me?”  
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Spare me, Sirius. I know you better than I know myself. You're in a mood.”  
  
Sirius sighed, resigned. “Can’t keep anything from you, can I?” he asked.  
  
“Nope,” she replied, kissing him softly on the lips. “I made tea. Come on. You can tell me over a cuppa.”

* * *

Evelyn observed her husband from across the kitchen table, taking a prim sip of her tea.  
  
“So,” she prompted, delicately placing the cup back on it’s saucer.   
  
Sirius stared down into his own tea, steam rising from the cup. He sighed heavily.  
  
“I saw Remus last night... he was... with them. With other werewolves.”  
  
Evelyn remained silent, nodding for Sirius to continue.  
  
“I’ve never seen _him_ with his own kind. _Ever_. Remus has never struck me as the sort to want to consort with his fellow werewolf. He had a lot of... animosity towards them, particularly Greyback.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Greyback turned Remus. His dad insulted him or something... turning Remus was his revenge,” Sirius elaborated. “Rem never seemed to agree with any of the alleged werewolf ideologies... at least I _thought_ he didn’t,” he continued, frowning.  
  
Evelyn pursed her lips. “Oh. I can see how that would be.... do you think he's turned sides?”  
  
“I don't know. I never thought he would but on the other hand, I can see why it would be advantageous to him if he did....” he trailed off, staring down at the ground.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“All of the anti-werewolf legislation has been hard on him. He can’t find decent work because he’s on the registry. No one will hire him, least of all the Ministry. Voldemort has offered the werewolves a promise of equality if they assist him in his fight for power.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, biting her lip. “Did he see you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius affirmed, nodding his head.   
  
“Are you afraid that he’ll tell James and Peter that he saw you?”she pressed.  
  
Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know...” he muttered, his lips forming a scowl.  
  
“Did he see your arm?” she asked pointedly, staring at his exposed left forearm.  
  
“No. I made sure I kept it covered,” Sirius noted, bringing his cup to his lips.  
  
“You need to tell Dumbledore,” Evelyn stated calmly, again bringing her cup to her lips.  
  
“No, Sirius said firmly, shooting her a disdainful look.   
  
“But Sirius, you-”  
  
“No. He doesn't need to know,” Sirius interrupted, shaking his head furiously.  
  
“But what if he tells them? Or what if he puts two and two together and guesses that you’re-”  
  
“Remus isn't stupid. I have something on him and he has something on me. He'll keep quiet about it,” Sirius stated, his gray eyes boring holes into her blue ones.  
  
“I don’t see why it’s so important for you to keep Remus’ whereabouts a secret,” Evelyn noted, shrugging.  
  
“He’s as good as a brother to me, Evelyn. I’d like to believe he has good enough reason to be mingling amongst the werewolves. I’m not about to rat him out without being certain he’s a traitor.”  
  
“Are you sure he’ll keep quiet about it? Can you really be certain of his loyalties to you?” she pressed, biting her lip nervously.  
  
“Yeah.”

* * *

"Sirius, love, will you get dressed? Our guests will be here in less than an hour,” Evelyn called over her shoulder as she finished setting the dining room table.   
  
Sirius watched as she adjusted the floral arrangement in the center of table, attempting to achieve total symmetry. “Remind me why were having _those people_ over, again?” he groaned, rolling his eyes.  
  
Evelyn sighed, delicately running her fingers over the single strand of pearls around her neck. “Because they’re your _parents_ and it’s their thirtieth wedding anniversary,” she retorted, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Sirius’ grease-stained jeans and filthy undershirt. “Tinkering around with your bike, yes?” she asked pointedly.  
  
“A bit, yeah,” he agreed, casually shoving his hands into his back pockets.   
  
“ _Please_ , take a shower, love. And get dressed?”  
  
“Alright, alright. I still don’t see why _we_ had to throw them a dinner,” Sirius muttered, brows furrowed.  
  
“Because you are their eldest son and the presumed heir to your family’s vast fortune?” Evelyn replied, a single eyebrow raised.   
  
Sirius emerged down the stairs a half hour later, hair freshly washed and clad in his black silk dress robes. “I still don’t see what the fuss is. It’s not as if their marriage is any great love story to celebrate... It was an arranged marriage meant to keep the bloodline pure. They’re cousins, for fuck’s sake. It’s sick, really.”  
  
Evelyn sighed heavily. “Come here, let me straighten your tie,” she said softly, motioning for him to come forward. As she fussed with his tie, she cleared his throat. “This evening will be a brilliant opportunity to get information from Malfoy and the Lestranges. Since you insist that I not be left alone with Malfoy, this seemed the best way to corner him and your cousin Bella,” she hissed, smoothing down his collar.   
  
“I suppose you’re right,” he said glumly, staring down at the floor.   
  
“Please, just smile and be polite. I’ll handle the rest. Alright, love?” she begged.  
  
“Alright. Who did you even invite, anyway?”  
  
“Your parents. Reg. The Malfoy’s. The Lestrange’s. Your Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella. Your Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia. Both sets of grandparents.”  
  
Sirius blanched. “My grandparents hate me, Evelyn.”  
  
“ _Hated_ ,” Evelyn corrected, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure their opinions have changed since you have returned to your family and married a suitable pure-blooded girl.”  
  
Sirius shot her a disbelieving look, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate them, Evie. All of them.”  
  
Evelyn sighed, striding purposefully towards the liquor cabinet. Hastily, she poured a tumbler of firewhiskey, nearly spilling as she filled it to the brim. “Just get drunk, then. It’ll dull the blow of having to deal with them,” she said sharply, shoving the drink in his face.  
  
“Cheers,” he said sarcastically, lifting his glass to her, before pouring half the contents down his throat.

* * *

Evelyn delicately tapped her wine glass with her fork, garnering the attention of the others gathered at the table. “Thank you, everyone, for joining Sirius and I tonight as we celebrate the thirtieth wedding anniversary of my mother and father-in-law, Orion and Walburga Black. I hope that Sirius and I can look forward to such a long and happy marriage.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes at Sirius as he drained the contents of his glass, taking note of the glazed expression in his eyes. _He’s plastered. Lovely_. “Given the troubling times we live in, I daresay that family is more important than ever before. As a newly minted member of the Black family, I cannot begin to express how honored I am to have joined such an esteemed family. The Black family has long been one of the oldest, most respected families in the wizarding world. Their dedication to family and blood-purity is truly exemplary, as we continue to fight to maintain our rightful place in society, against the blood-traitors and mud-bloods, who wish to destroy everything owed to us by our noble birthright. In as such, I would like to propose a toast,” she began, reaching for her wine glass. “To the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Toujours pur!” She raised her glass, offering a pointed grin in Malfoy's direction before bringing the glass to her lips.   
  
“Toujours pur!” the rest of the table echoed, raising their glasses, as well.  
  
Evelyn settled back down into her seat, straining her ears to listen in on Sirius’ conversation with Bellatrix. “Yes, he felt I was _better suited_ for recruiting than _him_ , so I had no choice but to accept the offer,” Sirius slurred, shooting a haughty grin Lucius’ way.   
  
“I understand _he_ has arranged private meetings with you,” Bella noted, her dark features eyeing him curiously.  
  
“The dark lord has always had a keen eye for _extraordinary_ talent, as I’m sure you are aware, dear cousin,” Sirius replied, smirking.   
  
Evelyn raised her glass to her lips, silently murmuring _legilimens_ , her eyes focused on Bellatrix.   
  
_Torturing blood-traitors. Threatening those who refuse to serve the dark lord. Seeking out members of the Order. Private tutoring with Voldemort, honing skills in dark arts._  
  
“You have such a beautiful wife, Sirius,” Melania Black, Sirius’ grandmother noted, offering Sirius an approving nod.   
  
“She is, isn’t she?” Sirius agreed, pointedly looking towards Lucius.  
  
“They’ll have beautiful children, won’t they, Walburga?” Irma Black added, patting her daughter on the arm. “Absolutely gorgeous.”  
  
Evelyn smiled politely, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“When do you plan on starting to try to conceive?” Melania asked, directing her question at Evelyn.  
  
“Ummm,” she started, glancing about the table, where everyone was watching her expectantly. “We haven’t really discussed having children, just yet. We haven’t even been married a year, yet,” she stammered, shooting Sirius pleading looks.  
  
“There’s no time like the present, dear,” Irma noted, offering her a cool smile. “After all, Sirius is the eldest male-born Black. The family name _must_ be continued.”  
  
Evelyn reached for her drink, tilting her head back to chug the contents. _Oh dear Merlin, help me._  
  
“Perhaps in about a year’s time we’ll begin trying,” Sirius noted, immersing himself in the conversation.  
  
“Given the times we live in, I would think you’d be trying immediately,” Orion replied, his wife nodding in agreement.   
  
Sirius took a sip from his glass, rolling his eyes. “Surely you could allow my wife and I to enjoy our time as _newlyweds_ , father,” he hissed, slamming his glass on the table.  
  
Evelyn took a quick breath of air, grabbing Sirius’ hand under the table and squeezing it. “Tell me, Narcissa, have you and Lucius began trying for a little one?” Evelyn asked, attempting to take the pressure off of herself and Sirius.  
  
“We have,” she noted tersely, shooting Evelyn a nasty look. “Though I suppose we have less at stake, seeing as Lucius nor I are the heir-apparent of the entire family fortune.”  
  
“Have you thought about children, Bellatrix?” Walburga asked, eyeing her eldest niece.  
  
“I don’t see children or motherhood in my future,” she replied primly, her lips neatly pursed together.  
  
Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief as the table turned their attention to discussion of Voldemort. “Though I can’t say I condone his methods,” Lucretia noted primly, taking a sip of wine, “It’s about _time_ someone do something about the _mud-bloods_.” “It’s obscene, really. The very _thought_ of their kind marrying into our own,” Irma added, shuddering.  
  
“The blood-traitors are just as bad as the mud-bloods,” Sirius noted, staring thoughtfully into his tumbler of firewhiskey. “Both should be dealt with appropriately.”  
  
“Here, here,” Rodolphus cheered, clinking his glass against Sirius’.   
  
Evelyn sat quietly as the rest of the table loudly began to discuss the latest news about Voldemort and his death eaters, unable to contain a smirk at the thought that nearly a third of those present bore the dark lord’s mark on their arm. She focused her attention on Lucius, again silently muttering _legilimens_.  
  
_Meeting with Snape. Anger. Revenge. Chastised by Voldemort. Evelyn._ She froze, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. _Me. He’s still in love with me. Desperately._ She bit her lower lip, regretting probing Lucius’ thoughts.   
  
“You alright, love?” Sirius whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her ear.   
  
“Mhmm,” she agreed, nearly gagging from the scent of liquor on his breath. “Could you fetch me a glass of gin, neat? Please?”  
  
Sirius nodded, rising to his feet and making towards the the liquor cabinet. He returned, two tumblers in hand; one filled with clear liquid, the other filled to the brim with the familiar amber hue of firewhiskey. “Cheers,” she said dully, clinking her glass against his. She took a sip, half-tempted to drain the glass in a single gulp. _Suppose Siri isn’t the only one who will need to get violently drunk to get through this evening._


	18. Chapter 18

“I understand that your meeting with other werewolf packs went well.”  
  
Sirius nodded, watching as Voldemort paced about the room. “We were able to secure the loyalty of the last of the largest packs in Britain, my lord,” he affirmed.  
  
“Very good. Very good, indeed,” Voldemort noted, offering Sirius a sinister grin. He paused, observing Sirius for a moment. “Perhaps you would like to take on another mission, one a bit more _dangerous_ than dealing with werewolves?”  
  
Sirius jerked his head forward quickly, well-aware by now that any question placed by Voldemort was a command. “If it is what my lord desires, of course.”  
  
“As I am sure you are aware, Malfoy was _attempting_ to recruit within Hogwarts,” Voldemort began, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the mention of the blond.  
  
Sirius nodded, listening raptly.  
  
“I believe you suggested before that it would be foolish to recruit only from Slytherin house, yes?”  
  
Sirius nodded. “Y-yes, sir. If I may be so bold, might I remind you that I was a Gryffindor.”  
  
Voldemort smirked, chuckling lowly. “Yes, you were,” he agreed, bemused. “The first Black in centuries to be sorted into a house other than Slytherin.”  
  
Voldemort began to pace the room again, stroking his chin. “Still, I suppose you are right. It would be foolish to be so blind-sighted as to completely ignore an entire pool of potential candidates. There is something to be said for the qualities favored by each house, am I correct?”   
  
Sirius nodded. “Of course, sir. Certainly the brilliance and cleverness of Ravenclaw would be useful to your cause.”  
  
Voldemort nodded, pleased. “And while Gryffindor may look past the unpleasantness of _mud-bloods_ , there is still something to be said for the bravery instilled in most members of that house,” he said pointedly, nodding towards Sirius.  
  
Sirius nodded, appreciative of the subtle compliment. “Of course,” Sirius agreed, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“I would like for you to recruit from the school. Seventh years, those preparing to graduate and enter adulthood,” Voldemort began, lacing his long fingers together.   
  
Sirius nodded. “Of course. Are there any-”  
  
“Given Lucius’ failings, I feel it may have been a poor decision to send him off with specific guidelines to measure the merit of candidates. I believe I can trust your judgment. Can I, Sirius?” he asked lowly, his red-rimmed eyes locked with his.  
  
“Of course. Of course you can, my lord,” Sirius replied, nodding his head.   
  
“You have proven to be successful at nearly any task given to you. With or without any direction. I have no doubt you will prove successful with this endeavor.”

* * *

Sirius flew high above the others, eager to begin their mission. At long last, the death eaters had succeeded in tracking the whereabouts of several Order members. Sirius had been ecstatic at the prospect of joining the others in their attack on the Order. _Perhaps this will prove my worth to them. Show all of them that I am a force to be reckoned with_. The group rounded the block the Ministry was located at, Sirius squinting in an attempt to catch sight of any sign of life. At last, he caught sight of two pale figures emerging from the telephone booth entrance. “There they are,” he hissed, nodding his head toward the pair.  
  
“Excellent,” Avery called out, flying ahead of Sirius and zooming down, directly over the two wizards.   
  
Sirius smirked as he heard Avery call out a curse, watching as he narrowly missed his target. _Never had great aim, that one. A pity._  
  
Sirius followed suit, skillfully flying directly above the pair, pointing his wand and silently hitting the two with a curse. _Sectumsempra_. To his annoyance, only one of the men was hit, the other protected by some sort of shield charm. _Damn it_. He flew higher up, watching as the others began their attack on the two. _Well, one really. The other is bleeding out on the pavement_. He laughed coldly, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. _This is what it’s like to feel alive_. The uninjured man set off a set of blue and red sparks, nearly causing Crabbe to fall off his broom. A moment later, nearly a dozen other wizards apparated onto the premises, each setting off curse after curse into the air towards the Death Eaters.   
  
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sirius dived forward on his broom, wand pointed at the crowd of Order members, rattling off curses and hexes at rapid speed, directing them at random. He caught sight of Alastor Moody, duelling with Macnair. Unable to resist, he flew directly above the pair, wand pointed at Moody. “Crucio,” he called out, his lips curling into a sneer.   
  
Moody, distracted by Macnair, was hit hard by the attack, struggling to remain upright as he screamed out in agony. Sirius watched on, his gaze focused on him, allowing his hatred of the man feed his curse, increasing it’s strength. He continued to point as Moody whipped his head around, catching sight of him. Sirius offered him a cruel smile before flying off, rushing to assist Regulus, who was struggling to duel both Alice and Frank Longbottom. He quickly cast a shielding charm over himself and his brother, knowing all too well that Regulus probably hadn’t bothered to do so before the attack. While Regulus dodged blows from both Alice and Frank, Sirius repelled their attacks, calling out “protego,” and watching as their spells reflected back on them.   
  
Alice fell to the ground, unconscious as her _stupefy_ fired back on her, hitting her squarely in the chest. Sirius turned his attention to the other Death Eaters, who were evenly matched against their opponents. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of James, duelling with Malfoy. _James_. Instinctively, he pulled his hood up, blocking his face from view. He spotted Marlene McKinnon rushing to revive Alice. Sirius frowned, watching as she expertly attacked with one hand while hurrying to Alice’s side. He flew low enough that he was barely two feet above her, wand pointed at her chest, a direct hit. Without a moment’s hesitation, he cried out, “Avada Kedavra,” watching with sick fascination as she fell dead to the ground, her body slumping over Alice’s unconscious form.   
  
Adrenaline continuing to pump through his veins, he turned his attention to the Prewett brothers, who were duelling Nott and Mulciber. Sirius joined the two, pointing his wand at Fabian. _Imperio_. With a flick of his wand, he sent Fabian flying into the air, his limbs dangling limply as he was tossed about by Sirius’ will, before sending him crashing to the ground, hitting the concrete with a dull thud. Sirius laughed as he caught sight of the blood, watching as Gideon rushed to his brother’s side, all thoughts of fighting the Death Eaters apparently forgotten. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sirius pointed his wand at the other Prewett brother, who was frantically trying to wake his sibling. “ _Crucio_!” Sirius cried out, his laughter ringing through the otherwise silent London sky as Gideon writhed on the ground, his limbs moving spastically as he screamed out in pain, his hands still struggling to reach for his brother.   
  
Sirius nearly fell off his broom from the force of a curse aimed directly at his chest. He gripped tightly on the handle, whipping around to search for the source of the attack. He spotted Moody, far down on the ground, wand pointed at him, silently muttering a string of words. Sirius stared coldly at the familiar figure, seeing red. _Moody. That right bastard_. “Crucio!” he screamed, wand pointed. He missed, Moody dodging his attack. “Crucio, Crucio, Crucio,” he continued, flying closer to his target, his mind blank save for the singular thought of _hurt, maim, kill._

* * *

Sirius frowned as Evelyn squeezed his hand tightly, as she partially dragged him toward the castle. “I don’t see why we have to just drop everything and immediately come to him whenever he _summons_ us,” he muttered, scowling.  
  
“Because if we don’t, he’ll just _show up_ at our home, remember?” Evelyn replied lightly, squeezing his hand yet again.   
  
Sirius sighed, suppressing a yawn. He had yet to sleep after last night’s mission; he had arrived home at just past daybreak and had barely had time to settle in before he’d been bombarded by an owl from Dumbledore, summoning him to meet with him immediately. “I had a long night. Maybe I’d like to get some sleep before having to meet with _him_ ,” he muttered, pulling his hand from Evelyn’s grasp and folding his arms against his chest.  
  
Evelyn nodded, involuntarily shivering. In their haste to make their way to Hogwarts, she hadn’t bothered to put on a coat. Though it had at last started to warm up some in London, Scotland was still bitterly cold, even in the beginning of April. _At least in comparison_. “Did you sleep at all? I didn’t even hear you come in last night,” she asked, peering at him curiously.  
  
“I only got in at dawn, love. Hadn’t even made it upstairs before I got that bloody owl,” he complained, kicking a loose stone on the ground. “I’m not his _puppet_. He can’t just tell me come and expect me to obey.”  
  
Evelyn remained silent, a single eyebrow raised. “I know, Sirius,” she said after a moment, sighing heavily.   
  
The pair trudged up the stairs to the castle, Sirius dragging his feet as they made their way closer and closer to the Headmaster’s office. “Sirius, please. Let’s just get this over with,” Evelyn hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward to match her own pace.  
  
“I don’t want to be here, Evelyn,” he muttered, pulling his arm from out of her grasp. “What’s the point? So he can tell me that I’m a failure and that I’m not doing what is needed of me? He doesn’t even acknowledge my talents,” Sirius muttered sourly, slightly baring his teeth as he spat out his last few words.  
  
“Regardless, _dear_ , we work for him. If he wants us to come and talk, we come and talk. Simple as that.”

* * *

Sirius knocked quickly on the Headmaster’s door, waiting for him to respond.  
  
“I owled you two hours ago,” Dumbledore noted, frowning at the pair.  
  
Sirius shrugged, pushing past his former Headmaster to make his way into the office, settling into his usual seat in front of the desk. “We’re here, aren’t we?” Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes.  
  
“It was quite early, sir. We hurried as quickly as we could to ready ourselves to come,” Evelyn added, shooting Sirius a frantic look.   
  
“Late night, Sirius?” Dumbledore asked coldly, shooting him a knowing look.  
  
Sirius shrugged. “Yeah.”  
  
“How has your work been going, Sirius? Do you have any new developments on Voldemort to report?” Dumbledore asked calmly, hands folded on his desk.  
  
“No,” Sirius retorted, his lips twisting into a scowl. “More of the same.... trying to convince them to trust me.”  
  
“Any new developments with the werewolves?” Dumbledore pressed, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
Sirius sighed. “I went with Greyback to meet with other packs. They all seem committed to an alliance with Voldemort, for the time being.” he started, shrugging his shoulders.   
  
“And your private meetings with Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked. “How have they been going?”  
  
Sirius bit the side of his cheek, his thoughts racing. _Merlin, he’s right. He’s a user. He only finds me useful when he needs something from me. Something he isn’t willing to stick his neck out to do_. His eyes clouded with anger, he violently shook his head. “I haven’t had one since the last I told you about,” he lied, clenching his fists tightly.  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he noted, clearing his throat. “Marlene McKinnon was killed last night,” he noted.  
  
Sirius stared ahead, his face blank. “Oh.” _Good._  
  
“It has been reported to me that you were attacking Order members, Sirius,” Dumbledore stated, his lips curled into a frown.  
  
“What was I supposed to do?” Sirius started, shooting Dumbledore a deadly glare. “I couldn’t just _pretend_ to attack, could I? You told me that I was to do whatever was necessary to earn their trust. _Remember_?”  
  
Dumbledore paused a moment, his steely blue eyes boring holes into Sirius’. “You need to remember what you’re actually here for, Sirius,” he stated coolly.  
  
“Oh, I am _well aware_. I’m doing my job, _sir_ ,” Sirius sneered, arms folded against his chest.  
  
“You performed an unforgivable on Alastor Moody. He _saw_ you, Sirius. Do you have any idea how big a mess you made for me, making yourself so visible in the midst of that?”  
  
Sirius shrugged, staring down at the floor.  
  
“I had to obliviate him to keep him from announcing to the entire Order that you’re a Death Eater, Sirius,” Dumbledore continued, eyeing him disdainfully.   
  
Sirius smirked slightly, unable to help himself from grinning at the mention of being a Death Eater.  
  
“Do you find this funny, Sirius?” Dumbledore asked, his tone sharp.  
  
“Of course not, _sir_. You know I’m _always_ Sirius,” Sirius retorted, a smirk etched onto his lips.  
  
“You need to remind yourself which side you’re on, Sirius,” Dumbledore said warningly, his gaze unwavering.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know,” Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes. “I got it.”  
  
The room went silent for several minutes, Sirius matching Dumbledore’s stare, arms folded against his chest, lips still firmly twisted into a scowl. “Can we go now?” Sirius said testily, at last breaking the silence.  
  
“I suppose,” Dumbledore replied tersely, before turning his attention to Evelyn. “Evelyn, if I could have a word alone, please?”  
  
“Of course,” Evelyn agreed, anxiously looking from her husband to Dumbledore.   
  
“I’ll meet you in Hogsmeade,” she told him, kissing him softly on the lips.  
  
“Right,” Sirius agreed, shooting Dumbledore a furious glare. “Always a pleasure,” he muttered, nodding his head at him before exiting the room.

* * *

Evelyn cleared her throat, folding her hands nervously in her lap. “You wanted a word, sir?” she asked, eyeing him warily.   
  
“Yes,” Dumbledore said agreeably, offering her a warm smile. “Firstly, I wanted to thank you for the information you provided the Order recently. It was most helpful to learn that Bellatrix has been seeking out Order members to attack. Your assistance has been invaluable to our cause.”  
  
“Thank you,” Evelyn replied politely, nervously chewing on her lower lip.  
  
“I can’t help but notice that there seems to be a change in Sirius’ behavior,” Dumbledore noted, eyeing her curiously.  
  
“A _change_?” Evelyn asked, slightly taken about by her former headmaster’s question.  
  
“Have you noticed any unusual behavior in him lately?” Dumbledore queried, watching her expectantly.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean by that, exactly,” Evelyn replied, feeling a pang of anxiety flutter in her chest. _He’s trying to use me to spy on my own husband. Oh, Merlin._  
  
“Any change in behavior? Mood swings? Unusual reactions to things?” Dumbledore elaborated, his blue eyes fixated on her.   
  
“N-not really,” Evelyn replied, shaking her head slightly.  
  
“You wouldn’t agree that it seems a bit out of character to attack a fellow Order member, using an Unforgivable, no less?”  
  
Evelyn sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, sir. He’s still... He’s been very upset about his failure with the Ministry members,” she lied, silently setting _occlumens_ , blocking her thoughts from him.  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Surely you don’t think that a single failure would cause him to behave so rashly, do you?” he prompted.  
  
“He took the failure very badly, sir,” Evelyn said calmly, lacing her fingers together as she spoke. “He reacted especially badly to _your_ reaction of his failure. You were right, the mistake set him back further than he expected.”  
  
She cleared her throat, smoothing her hair down. “You know how Sirius is, sir. He puts a lot of pressure on himself. He’s been pushing himself tenfold harder to try and make up for his failure. I admit that he may have taken it a bit too far with this latest incident, but I hardly think that his behavior is anything to worry about.”  
  
“I fear that he is being brainwashed by Voldemort and his followers into truly believing in their cause,” Dumbledore noted, sighing heavily.  
  
“Sirius would _never_... He believes in our cause. No, there’s no way he could ever be brainwashed by Voldemort,” she retorted, shaking her head vigorously. _Oh dear Merlin, please don’t let it be so, Siri. Please don’t have fallen in with those horrible people._  
  
“You’re certain that he hasn’t turned sides, then?” Dumbledore pressed, his gaze chilling her right to her very core.  
  
“I’m certain,” she lied, lips pressed firmly together. _Please let me be right. Oh, Sirius, please..._   
  
Dumbledore nodded curtly, peering over his desk at her. “Let’s hope that you’re correct in believing that, Mrs. Black.” He sighed, eyebrows furrowed together. “For everyone’s sake.”


	19. Chapter 19

Sirius woke to the sound of tapping on his bedroom window. Aggravated, he pulled himself out of bed, opening the window. A small snowy owl entered the room, immediately pecking Sirius on the finger. “Ow, fuck,” he swore, swatting the bird away.  
  
Blearily, he removed the neat piece of parchment from the bird’s leg. He stared at the bird for a moment, dismissively waving a hand to shoo it away; however, it perched on the windowsill, watching him. “Suppose you’re waiting for a reply, then,” he muttered, glancing down at the parchment for further inspection.  
  
He immediately recognized Remus’ neat handwriting, unfolding the parchment and examining the contents. He frowned as he came to the end. It had been little more than a short note: _Sirius, Meet me at The World’s End. Six sharp. R. J. Lupin_  
  
Sirius frowned, his nostrils flaring slightly. _A bit presumptuous of him to be making demands, isn’t it?_ Still, he decided it would be best to meet him and hear what he had to say. _I daresay he wants to discuss the Greyback incident_. Hastily, he scribbled a reply on the parchment, stating that he would be there. He sent the owl off on it’s way with his reply, his mood steadily darkening.   
  
Sirius arrived at the pub early, determined to have a nice buzz developed before Remus arrived. He took a seat at a deserted end of the bar, ordering a scotch, neat. He stared down at the grainy wood of the bar as he drank, lost in his own thoughts. _Never thought I’d see the day where I was dreading meeting one of my best mates at the pub_. He took a deep swig of his drink, wincing from the taste. _Why am I even drinking this? I don’t even like scotch_. Normally, Sirius stuck to whiskey, finding the aged taste of scotch to be nearly undrinkable. Still, he had been feeling rather tremulous when he’d arrived and scotch was allegedly the drink of the social elite, which he was, so why not? _Maybe it’ll boost my confidence._  
  
“What do you want, Remus?” Sirius muttered irritably, brooding over a half-empty tumbler of scotch.  
  
“Thank you for meeting me,” Remus said evenly, taking a seat beside him at the bar. He motioned to the bartender, politely ordering a pint of Guinness.  
  
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice, did you?” Sirius retorted, a hint of bitterness in his voice.  
  
“I didn’t hold a wand to your head and force you here,” Remus replied dryly, taking a sip of his beverage.  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Your note was hardly an invitation for an evening out with the lads, Remus.”  
  
“How have you been?” Remus asked, eyeing Sirius with a mixture of interest and distrust.  
  
“Fine. And you?”  
  
“Healthy at the moment. It could change. Full is in-”  
  
“Less than two weeks time. I’m sure you’ll be feeling like shite within the week,” Sirius interrupted, punctuating his comment with a swig of his drink.  
  
“You still remember,” Remus replied mildly, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“I was with you for every full for nearly six years, Remus. I couldn’t forget the cycle if I tried.”  
  
“How is Evelyn?”  
  
“She’s well, thank you.”  
  
Remus nodded. “Lily mentioned that she ran into her in London.”  
  
Sirius’ eyebrows raised. “Oh? She didn’t mention it.”  
  
Remus shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Lily was keen on trying to enlist Evelyn’s help to get you to speak with James.”  
  
Sirius stared down into his drink. “Why in Merlin’s name would she be doing that?”  
  
“Because you were our best friend for years and out of the blue, you ditched all of us,” Remus replied coldly.  
  
“I didn’t come here for shitty conversation, Remus. Get to the point of this meeting,” Sirius replied harshly, draining the contents of his drink and motioning to the bartender for another.  
  
“Didn’t know you to be a scotch drinker,” Remus noted, continuing to nurse his own pint.  
  
“You don’t know everything there is to know about me,” Sirius muttered, wincing from the strong taste of the liquor.  
  
“Suppose Lucius has been rubbing off on you.”  
  
“Don’t say his name around me,” Sirius snapped, scowling.  
  
Remus remained silent, merely raising his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “I wanted to know what you were doing, mingling with Greyback and his pack.”  
  
“I must say, I was quite surprised to see you there, as well,” Sirius retorted, shrugging.  
  
Remus laughed softly. “I daresay I needn’t remind you that only one of us in this room is a werewolf. And he’s wearing _my_ clothes.”  
  
“Were you with _them_ when they attacked the Order near the Ministry?” Remus asked, eyeing Sirius critically.  
  
“No,” Sirius snapped, slamming his glass onto the counter.  
  
“I know your wand-work, Sirius. Even if you were performing silent spells, I could spot your technique anywhere,” Remus pressed, his golden brown eyes focused on Sirius’ gray ones.   
  
“You must have been mistaken, then. It wasn’t me,” Sirius lied, scowling.  
  
“Are you a Death Eater, now?”  
  
Sirius shot him a withering look, forcing himself to not instinctively grasp his left forearm. “That’s absurd, Remus. Like they’d accept a blood-traitor.”  
  
“You’re the one who said I don’t know everything about you, Padfoot. It just seems-”  
  
“What seems?” Sirius interrupted, tightly gripping his drink in his fist.  
  
“I just find it suspect that you claim you aren’t a Death Eater, yet you were out interacting with werewolves, _dangerous ones_ no less, in _their_ territory. For ordinary men, that’d be a death sentence,” Remus quipped.  
  
“Likewise, _Remus_ , I could ask the same of you. _Why_ were _you_ out with the werewolves? I thought you renounced their ways?”  
  
Remus scowled, taking a sip of his pint. “I could tell the others, you know. That I saw you. That you were standing beside Greyback as if you two were the best of friends,” he said lowly, threatening.  
  
“You can’t back me into a corner, _Lupin_. If you expose me, _I’ll_ expose you. I’m sure the entire Order would be quite surprised that a member was fraternizing with _dark creatures_.”  
  
The two men stared one another down, their gaze steely, each ready to fight for their stance on the matter.  
  
At last, Remus’ expression softened. “Why did you tell Greyback to trust me?” Remus asked, his tone gentler.   
  
Sirius shrugged. “I assumed that you had your reasons for interacting with _them_ ,” he retorted, brushing the comment off brusquely.   
  
“Well, I suppose we’ve nothing left to say, then,” Remus noted, drinking the last sip of his beer.   
  
“Suppose we don’t,” Sirius agreed, tossing back the remainder of his scotch.   
  
“So it’s agreed that we’ll keep this matter between the two of us?” Remus asked, eyeing Sirius critically.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, immediately sticking out his right hand.  
  
The two shook hands, gray eyes focused on brown ones the entire time.   
  
“Sirius,” Remus noted, nodding his head as a means of a goodbye.  
  
“Remus,” Sirius replied, nodding his head as well.   
  
With a final sad look, Remus rose to his feet, instinctively reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.  
  
“I’ve got it,” Sirius muttered, waving his hand dismissively.   
  
“Alright then. Ta, Sirius,” he said quietly as he turned on his heel, hastily exiting the bar.  
  
Sirius sighed heavily, lowering his head into his hands. _There’s not enough booze in the world to wash away this guilt._

* * *

Regulus paced the upstairs hall of Grimmauld Place, frantic. Hours had passed since his beloved house elf, Kreacher, had left in the company of Lord Voldemort. _He never said what he needed the assistance of a house elf for_. He frowned, coming to a halt in front of Sirius’ childhood bedroom door. Regulus ran his fingers over the plaque on the door, which bore Sirius’ full name: Sirius Orion Black III. _Sirius_. Over the past several weeks, Regulus had come to find Sirius’ behavior somewhat worrisome. Though he was well-aware of Sirius’ dark streak, he had witnessed something new, something different in the Sirius he’d seen fighting the Order; he’d seen a sadistic streak, a characteristic he’d only seen in their cousin, Bellatrix. _He wanted to hurt them. Even though they were probably his friends_. Though he’d kept his thoughts to himself, Regulus had been growing wary of Voldemort and his _methods_ for quite some time. Still, he was a Black, and he’d taken an oath to obey, so he’d continued to do as he was ordered. _Always the good son. The loyal son_. Before Sirius’ return, he’d toyed with the idea of running away. However, Sirius’ return to the fold had cemented his certainty that there was no hope outside of the current situation. Despite all, Sirius had run away, only to run right back and fall back in with the fold. _If Sirius couldn’t make a go of it, what hope would I have?_  
  
As the youngest Black, Regulus had found during his early years that it was easiest for him to just go with the flow of things, to obey and not make waves. While Sirius, the eldest son, had been wild, confrontational, unyielding, Regulus had struggled to stay under the radar, desperate to keep the peace in his family which threatened to pull apart at any given minute. He’d grown to be an obedient, loyal young man, which was how he’d found himself in the position of being made a Death Eater to begin with. As with everything else in his life, he’d done what was necessary to keep the peace, to protect himself and his family. Securing a position amongst the Death Eaters ensured the safety of his parents, and to a lesser extent, Sirius. His thoughts trailed back to Voldemort, and the peculiar request he’d made months before.  
  
_Regulus had been shocked to be summoned into Lord Voldemort’s private chambers. While a full-fledged Death Eater, he was hardly part of the inner circle. He’d been inducted at sixteen, mostly because he was a Black. Still, as the good pure-blooded boy he had been raised to be, he had immediately appeared at the Dark Lord’s request. “You wished to see me, my lord?” he had asked, nervously approaching the older man. He’d felt his pulse race as Voldemort observed him from his desk, his red eyes seeming to peer into Regulus’ very soul. “I understand that your household has several house elves,” he had noted, his voice soft, each word drawn out. “Yes,” Regulus had agreed, rigidly taking a seat across from him. “You are particularly close with one of them, am I correct?” he had asked, his gaze unnerving. “Ye-yes, Kreacher. He’s looked after me since I was a little one, how did you-” “I make myself aware of anything that I wish to know,” Voldemort had interrupted, offering him a sinister smile. “A time will come when I will need the assistance of a house elf. Would you be so kind as to lend me this Kreacher to fulfill a task?” Regulus had thought about saying no, had thought about protesting, demanding further details. If he’d been Sirius, he’s certain he would have. He would have put up a fight, he would have demanded answers. However, he was Regulus Arcturus Black. And Regulus Arcturus Black was a good, well-behaved pure-blooded boy. A good Death Eater. So Regulus Arcturus Black had nodded his head, forced a smile on his face and had assured the Dark Lord that, “It would be an honor for my elf to serve you, my lord.”  
  
At last, Regulus couldn’t take it. “Kreacher, return home, _now_ ,” he shouted, entering his bedroom and slamming the door shut.  
  
Several minutes later, the house elf apparated into the room, looking pale and sickly.  
  
“Kreacher, what happened?” Regulus asked, panic rising in his chest.  
  
“Master Regulus ordered me to return home, so Kreacher returned home,” the elf croaked, his eyes looking dazed.  
  
Tight-lipped, Regulus grabbed an empty glass from his bedside, muttering _Aguamenti_ and filling the glass. He shoved the water into the elf’s hands, leading him towards the bed. “Sit,” he ordered, nodding towards the bed.  
  
The house elf obeyed, taking a seat and sipping the water slowly. Regulus observed, his heart pounding in his chest, as anger threatened to tear through his very core. “What happened, Kreacher? What did he do to you?” he asked tersely, arms folded against his chest.  
  
The house elf sighed, his breathing raspy. “He... The Dark Lord, sir. He ordered me to take him to a cave. We were surrounded by water, filled with... _Bad things_. He procured a basin of liquid. He made Kreacher drink the liquid, Master Regulus. I... I obeyed. I did as you wished. I obeyed the Dark Lord. When the basin was empty, he had Kreacher place a locket in it. The locket was...” he frowned, his hands shaking.  
  
“What was it, Kreacher? What was in the locket?” Regulus asked, dropping down onto one knee, so that he stood eye-level with the elf.  
  
“ _Bad magic. Dark_. He replaced the liquid, then left Kreacher there. I only returned because Master Regulus summoned me back. Kreacher must obey Master Regulus’ orders,” the house elf continued, gazing at Regulus with adoration.  
  
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said softly, gently placing a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’ve done so, so well. You did precisely what I asked, returning home to me.”  
  
“Kreacher wants only to please Master Regulus.”  
  
Regulus smiled, again patting the elf on the shoulder. “You need your rest, Kreacher. Go down to the kitchen to eat, then retire for the evening. Please.”  
  
“Of course, Master Regulus,” Kreacher replied eagerly, rising to his feet and offering Regulus a small bow. With a _crack_ , he disapparated, leaving Regulus alone with his thoughts.  
  
Sighing heavily, Regulus threw himself onto his bed, squeezing his eyes shut. _He would have left him to die. Dear Merlin. What could be so important that he’s hidden it away in a cave?_ He lay there for a while, his thoughts racing. _Sirius. I need to talk to Sirius._ He rose to his feet, taking a minute to steady himself. _Sirius will fix this. He’ll know what to do. He’s the brave one. He’ll save us.__

* * *

Nervously, Regulus knocked on Sirius’ front door. In a fit of nerves, he had elected to apparate a few blocks away from Sirius and Evelyn’s Chelsea row-home, figuring the short walk would give him time to gather his bearings. A few seconds passed before the door swung open, familiar gray eyes peering into his own. “Brother,” Sirius greeted him warmly, ushering him inside.  
  
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sirius asked, lazily pouring a healthy measure of firewhiskey into a tumbler.  
  
“I was in the area. Figured I’d stop in,” Regulus lied, shaking his head no at his brother’s offer of a drink.  
  
“Tea?” Sirius asked, nodding towards the kitchen.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind a cuppa,” Regulus agreed, nodding.  
  
The pair made their way to the kitchen, where Sirius chattered on about his latest meeting with Voldemort as he prepared a cup of tea for Regulus.  
  
Regulus sat stiffly at the kitchen table, half-halfheartedly feigning interest as his elder brother fawned over the Dark Lord.  
  
“You know he’s been giving me _private lessons_ , Reg,” he boasted, placing a steaming mug before him.  
  
“Of course he recognized your brilliance, Sirius,” Regulus said weakly, taking a gulp of the steaming hot tea.  
  
He winced as the hot liquid burned his mouth, a dull ache throbbing down his esophagus as he swallowed it down.  
  
“Something bothering you, Reg?” Sirius asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
Regulus sighed, staring down at his hands, which were shaking, despite his attempt at a firm grip on his mug. He glanced up at Sirius, who appeared to be oblivious to his nervousness. “Do you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing?” he asked quietly, struggling to keep his tone even, free of any inflection.  
  
Sirius frowned. “No. Of course not. I’m certain that what we’re doing is right, Reg,” Sirius replied, offering Regulus a hearty grin.   
  
“After all, we’re fighting for _our kind_. It is our right by birth to rule, Regulus. Why should we, pure-blooded, talented wizards be ordered about by half-bloods and mud-bloods? It’s pure madness, it is. We, who have been born into this, who have generations and generations of magic in our lineage are meant to rule.”  
  
Regulus remained silent, nodding as his brother continued spitting off pure-blooded rhetoric, wincing as he heard Voldemort’s words escaping Sirius, _his brother, the loyal Gryffindor’s_ mouth.  
  
“You’re right, Sirius,” Regulus replied weakly, biting his lower lip and drawing blood.  
  
Regulus sipped his tea as Sirius finished his drink, filling him in on his latest recruiting efforts. “I was able to secure the loyalty of three brilliant Ravenclaw seventh years. The Dark Lord was quite pleased,” Sirius noted, obviously quite proud of himself.  
  
“Obviously you’re far better at this task than Malfoy ever hoped to be,” Regulus noted, his hands still shaking as he gripped his cooling tea.   
  
“I’d love an excuse to kill _that_ wanker,” Sirius hissed, his gray eyes clouding with rage.  
  
“I’m sure,” Regulus agreed, wincing as he heard Sirius hand slam down on the kitchen table.   
  
“If he _ever_ so much as lays a finger on my Evelyn, Reg, I swear to Merlin I’ll...” he slurred, a deadly glare plastered on his face.  
  
Regulus sighed, feeling his stomach churn from the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. _He’s drunk. What a surprise. Seems like he’s always drunk, lately_. He sighed, watching as his brother rinsed the glass in the sink, still quite graceful despite his inebriated state. _Maybe it makes it easier for him. Easier to buy into all of this. At least I hope that’s the case. That he’s just pretending. That he doesn’t actually believe in all this._  
  
“I have to get going. Voldemort wants to brief me on a mission for this evening,” Sirius divulged, shooting Regulus his signature smirk.  
  
“Oh?” Regulus asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
Sirius nodded. “Another Order attack. The Dark Lord feels that I would be better suited to lead an attack than Mulciber or Avery, given my _natural talent_.”  
  
“Well, I won’t keep you then,” Regulus muttered, offering Sirius a half-hearted grin. “I’ll see you later, then?”  
  
“Surely,” Sirius agreed, grinning. “Always a pleasure, little brother.”  
  
With a crack, Sirius disapparated, leaving Regulus alone in the kitchen. He sighed heavily, resting his head against the kitchen table. _What happened to you Sirius? Oh Merlin, who are you, anymore?_ He sat there for quite some time, his mind racing with thoughts of Sirius, Kreacher, and deals with the devil.

* * *

Evelyn arrived home from an afternoon of shopping and lunch with the St. Mungo’s Board to find Regulus seated alone in her kitchen, his head buried in his hands, resting on the kitchen table. Unsure whether he was awake or not, she quietly approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Regulus immediately jerked alert from her touch, his head snapping up from it’s resting position.  
  
“Evelyn,” he gasped, his gray eyes widened in surprise.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologized, offering him a small smile.  
  
“My fault, I guess I zoned out... Sirius left, and I just...” he trailed off, unsure of how to explain why he was still there.  
  
“I don’t mind. You’re family, Regulus. You’re always welcome here,” Evelyn said warmly. “I’m going to fix myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?” she asked.  
  
Regulus nodded. “Please.”   
  
He watched as Evelyn gracefully procured a clean set of tea cups from the cupboard, preparing a kettle for tea. _She’s a good woman. She certainly loves Sirius, is loyal to him._  
  
Once the tea was prepared, she placed a cup before Regulus, taking a seat opposite him at the table. “Something bothering you?” she asked, taking a delicate sip from her cup.  
  
Regulus stared down into his tea, unsure how to respond. “I’m okay,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
Evelyn smirked, shaking her head. “You’re not. You have the same look on your face that Siri gets whenever he’s brooding,” she noted.  
  
Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m not my brother’s clone, you know?” he retorted, his tone a bit sharper than he intended.  
  
“You can’t help but inherit some of the same family traits, though,” she countered, taking another sip.  
  
“I suppose,” Regulus agreed, eyeing her curiously. Though Regulus had been three years below, Evelyn, he had gotten to know her in passing, having been in the same House. He had always regarded her as someone of great intelligence, and a strong sense of self. While most of the girls in Slytherin had resigned to being little more than potential arm-candy for pure-blooded husbands, he had always sensed something more in Evelyn. She had an essence that radiated from within her that suggested that she had so much more to her than the other girls. “Sirius has become quite dedicated to the Dark Lord’s cause,” he started, struggling to find the words to broach this topic. He was unsure of how Evelyn would react, having never been quite certain of her loyalty to the Dark Lord.  
  
Evelyn raised a single eyebrow, eyeing him curiously. “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?” she agreed, taking a prim sip of tea.   
  
Regulus nodded, taking another sip of his tea.  
  
“He’s... He’s quite proud that the Dark Lord has taken such a keen interest in him. Has recognized his talents,” Regulus continued, the tea cup rattling in his shaking hands.  
  
Evelyn’s gaze fell down to his hands, watching as he trembled. “He’s... Certainly changed a bit,” she noted, a tinge of sadness in her tone.  
  
“So you’ve seen it, too?” Regulus asked, locking eyes with her.  
  
Evelyn frowned, biting her lip. “I... Sometimes I listen to him and I don’t even recognize him, Reg,” she said lowly.  
  
Regulus bit his lip, the coppery taste of blood entering his mouth again. “I asked him if he thinks we’re doing the right thing, that we’re fighting for the right side,” Regulus confessed, turning his gaze to his hands, which dangled limply in his lap.  
  
“When?”  
  
“This afternoon. Before you found me sitting here... Thinking,” he replied, sighing.  
  
He placed his hands on the table, nervously rapping the wood with his fingertips.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Do _you_ think you’re fighting for the wrong side?” she asked, a curious expression on her face.  
  
Regulus nodded, tears stinging in his eyes. “I want out, Evelyn,” he mumbled, hot tears trickling down his cheeks.   
  
Evelyn gently reached forward, placing a soothing hand over his trembling one. “You’re upset. What happened?”  
  
Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus found himself telling Evelyn everything, from Voldemort’s peculiar request, to Sirius’ changing behavior, to the state Kreacher had returned in. Evelyn listened quietly, ever the rapt listener. She had squeezed his hand gently when he struggled to find the words to explain what he was trying to tell her, and had been patient with him, not once interrupting. _I can see why he loves her so much. She’s so good. So patient and loving and kind. No wonder he returned home to all of this, if only to marry her._  
  
“Regulus,” she said softly, a bit of hesitation in her voice.  
  
Regulus looked up, her voice drawing him out from his own whirring thoughts. “Hmm?” he asked, eyeing her intently.  
  
She sighed, twirling a strand of her long blonde hair around her finger. “I... If I tell you something, do you swear to keep it to yourself? You can’t tell anyone. _Anyone_. Even Sirius,” she continued, her blue eyes turning icy.  
  
Regulus nodded. “Of course.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, biting on her lower lip. The pair sat in silence for several minutes as Evelyn stared intently at him, struggling to string together words. At last, she cleared her throat, appearing resigned to say what she needed to. “Sirius _was_ , well _is_ , technically, I supposed, a member of Dumbledore’s resistance. He’s part of the Order of the Phoenix,” she started, her expression rigid as she spat out the words.  
  
Regulus nodded, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“Dumbledore he...” she trailed off, laughing bitterly. “He ordered Sirius to return home and infiltrate Voldemort’s inner circle. To spy. For the Order.”  
  
Regulus’ eyes widened in shock, as he was struck with realization. “So you-”  
  
“Marrying me was part of the steps he needed to take to earn his way back into society, yes,” Evelyn affirmed, her lips pressed firmly together.  
  
Regulus stared, shocked.  
  
“He... _We_.... Have been spying on behalf of the Order,” she continued, suddenly rising to her feet. “I think this calls for a stiffer drink, don’t you?” she asked.  
  
Regulus nodded, rising as well. The pair entered the sitting room, where Evelyn shakily poured herself a tumbler of gin, nearly sloshing a great deal onto the floor. Regulus watched as she brought the glass to her lips, knocking back half the contents with a single gulp. “Sorry, I just... Nerves,” she noted, shooting him an apologetic look.   
  
“It’s fine,” he assured her, taking a seat on the couch.  
  
“Firewhiskey?” she offered.  
  
“Please.”  
  
She poured him a glass, topping off hers, before joining him on the couch.  
  
“Anyway... We have both been spying. I stuck my nose into Sirius’ business, and found out what he was up to... So Dumbledore recruited me as well. I’m a pretty okay legilimens. And things were going alright, for a while. But it seems that _he_... Well, there’s no getting around it, I suppose. He’s falling for it. For everything Voldemort says. He’s totally caught up in all of this Death Eater nonsense.”  
  
“They brainwashed him,” Regulus elaborated, looking to Evelyn for confirmation.  
  
Evelyn nodded, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know what to do, Reg. I can’t tell Dumbledore, even though he suspects it because _I don’t trust him_. If he were to find out Sirius has bought into Voldemort’s cause, I’m afraid he might just kill him, to eliminate the risk of him compromising the Order.”  
  
“Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t-”  
  
“You have no idea what type of man Dumbledore is,” Evelyn interrupted, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “I can see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he speaks of everything being _for the greater good_. He doesn’t care what happens to Sirius, what happens to me. We’re just pawns, easily disposable. So I _can’t_ tell him. I love him, Reg. So much. But I look in his eyes and it’s like I can’t even _see_ him, anymore. They’re destroying him, Reg. I... I don’t know what to do,” she concluded, tears beginning to roll freely down her cheeks.  
  
Regulus placed a hand on her knee, unsure of how to react. “We have to try, Evie. He’s a good man. You know it, I know it. I always knew, deep down, Sirius had the right idea. We can’t let them take him.”  
  
“But how?” Evelyn sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
Regulus frowned. “I don’t know... But we have to try... You said you’re a legilimens, right?” he asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Do you know anything about Voldemort collecting rare artifacts for something?” he asked.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah... I was meeting with Lucius regularly to try and get information, and I read his thoughts and that came up several times... And something else,” she noted, frowning.  
  
“What was it?”  
  
Evelyn paled, reaching for her glass. With trembling hands, she brought the glass to her lips, draining the contents. Hands still shaking, she wiped her mouth with the back of he right hand.  
  
“Evie?” Regulus pressed, struggling to keep his tone calm.  
  
“Regulus... Do you know what a horcrux is?”  
  
Regulus stared, eyes widening, as realization set in. “He... The locket he sent Kreacher to-”  
  
“He’s creating horcruxes. So he’ll be immortal,” Evelyn finished, punctuated by a spectacular _crash_ as her tumbler fell from her hands, shattering into a million tiny shards of crystal on the wooden floor.


	20. Chapter 20

Regulus stood between Avery and Snape, quietly observing, as Voldemort stood in the center of the circle of Death Eaters, loudly addressing them. He kept his gaze focused on the floor, barely able to stomach the sight of his brother watching reverently as Voldemort sang praises upon him, lauding him as _his most loyal follower_. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach roiling. _This isn’t you, Sirius. Please, snap out of it_. Regulus snapped his eyes open, vaguely aware that someone was watching him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape eyeing him suspiciously. “Do you find this as nauseating as I do?” Snape asked lowly, his lips barely moving as the words slipped off his tongue.  
  
“I can’t say I’m surprised. My brother has always excelled at anything he’s put his mind to,” Regulus whispered, pressing his lips tightly together as felt vomit rise in his throat.  
  
“It has become apparent,” Sirius spoke, joining Voldemort inside the circle, “that the Ministry is standing in our way of achieving our goals.”   
  
Regulus silently observed his brother, taking a deep breath through his nose as felt another wave of nausea pass him.  
  
“Why should _we_ , the pure-blooded, the ones _born_ into this great society be forced to answer to those beneath us?” Sirius asked, his eyes twinkling with mania as he gestured wildly with his arms.  
  
“If you aren’t with us, you’re _against_ us. I say that the time has come that we draw the line in the sand. If you don’t stand for progress, for restoring the pure-blooded to their rightful place in society, then you’re as bad as the mud-bloods and blood-traitors! Let them die beside their beloved muggles!” he cried out, receiving a booming applause in agreement from their fellow Death Eaters.  
  
Regulus hung his head down, unable to bear another second of watching his brother like this, brainwashed by Voldemort and his filthy agenda. _This isn’t you, Sirius_. Choking back tears, he drew his head up once more, joining in in applauding his brother’s hateful words. His lungs filled with dread, he carried on in his role, careful to keep his feelings from bubbling over the surface, lest anyone see his true self. Because above all, Regulus understood the importance of _tact_ and _composure_ , and that it was imperative to keep yourself guarded at all times. _Because that’s when they get you, when you let your mask slip._

* * *

Remus knocked on the Potter’s front door, suppressing a yawn. He’d been up for two days straight with the werewolves and had wanted nothing more than to crawl home to his dingy one bedroom deathtrap in Camden, but had guiltily accepted Lily’s invitation to come visit the couple in their charming Godric’s Hollow cottage.  
  
“Rem,” James greeted him. _With forced cheerfulness_ , Remus noted. “Hey, how have you two been holding up?” he asked, shrugging off his coat and lowering himself into one of the comfortable armchairs in the sitting room.  
  
“It’s been hectic,” James said wearily. “Been covering double shifts so I can have a few days in between to stay home with Lils.”  
  
Lily emerged from the kitchen, right hand resting on the swell of her stomach. “Hello, Remus,” she greeted him, offering him a small smile. “I’m out of commission for the time being, Dumbledore’s orders,” she added, glancing down at her stomach.  
  
“How far along are you, Lils?” Remus asked.  
  
“Almost six months, now.”  
  
“Why don’t you put a kettle on for tea, Lils?” James suggested, wrapping his arms around his wife. “Remus looks like he could use a cuppa.”  
  
“Tea would be lovely,” Remus affirmed, shooting the couple an appreciative glance.  
  
A few minutes later, Lily emerged from the kitchen, tea set in hand.  
  
The trio settled around the coffee table, exchanging pleasantries while Lily poured each of them a steaming cup of tea. Remus accepted his gratefully, pouring a dash of milk and adding two teaspoons of sugar to his. He watched as James fussed over Lily, warmed by the loving display before him. Lily was positively glowing with happiness, and it was apparent how devoted James was to her, doting over her constantly.  
  
“I ran into Sirius the other day,” Remus noted, gritting his teeth as he caught sight of James’ jaw clenching.  
  
“Did you tell him... I almost told Evelyn when I saw her in London, but..” she trailed off, lowering her eyes to stare down into her tea.  
  
“It’s none of his damn business,” James glowered, slamming his cup of tea a bit too roughly down onto it’s saucer. “ _Fuck_ Black. He decided that _we_ don’t matter to him, so he doesn't _get_ to be a part of this joyous time in our lives,” he snapped, lips curled into a snarl.  
  
“I just don’t understand what’s gotten into him,” Lily sighed, lightly placing a hand on her stomach.  
  
“Can we stop talking about him?” James asked irritably, slamming his fist onto the armrest of his chair.  
  
“James,” Lily said calmly, resting a soothing hand on her husband’s arm, “why don’t you a walk around the block, cool off some?”   
  
James muttered something incomprehensible before storming out the door, slamming the door behind him.  
  
“He’s devastated, you know,” Lily noted sadly, taking a sip of tea. “Sirius is still his best friend... he’s just... hurt.”  
  
“I’m sure. It was a shock for all of us,” Remus replied, bringing his cup to his lips. He closed his eyes, blocking out images of his last encounter with Sirius from his mind.  
  
“Still, you know, Sirius is his family. Since his parent’s passed away, Sirius is all he has left. And for Sirius to suddenly pull a one-eighty, like he did... getting married, going back to his family... it’s been hard for James,” Lily continued, shaking her had sadly.  
  
“I guess none of us really knew Sirius as well as we thought we did.”  
  
“Rem... I have to ask... do you think the rumors are true? That he’s a Death Eater?” Lily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Remus paused, considering. “No,” he said finally, shaking the nagging thoughts in his head from his mind.   
  
“So what do you think caused him to just change like he did?” Lily pressed.  
  
Remus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. _A deal is a deal, Remus. Even if he has changed, Sirius has always been good for his word. You owe it to him to keep your end of the bargain._ “I think he decided it wasn’t worth it, Lily. He gave up a lot, leaving his family the way he did. The money, the title, the career opportunities... I mean, let’s face it, he’s been crazy about Evelyn forever. And she’s a pure-blooded girl. I doubt she’d have willingly taken his hand in marriage if he couldn’t guarantee her a comfortable existence in pure-blooded society. I think he just decided to buy back in. All the privilege was too tempting for him, I guess.”  
  
Lily nodded, sighing heavily. “I wish he’d at least talk to James. Even if he’s decided he doesn’t want to fight, their friendship shouldn’t have to be collateral damage... I know James wants him to meet his son.”  
  
“Son? So it’s a boy?” Remus asked, curious.  
  
“Yeah,” Lily replied, smiling. “We’ve decided to name him Harry... After James’ father...”

* * *

Regulus frowned as he struggled to reach the highest bookshelf in his father’s study. He’d been pouring over his father’s books on dark magic for nearly three days and had yet to find anything about horcruxes. Still, he persevered, determined to skim through every book he could get his hands on until he found the answer he needed. He coughed as dust surrounded him, pulling a heavy leather-bound book from the shelf. Silently, he returned to his father’s desk, taking a seat in the red leather armchair. He opened the book, skimming the pages for anything pertaining to horcruxes. He paused as his eyes poured over the current page opened before him. _Creating a Horcrux_. He sat in his father’s study until long after dusk, reading and re-reading the entry. _I have to get rid of it. It has to be destroyed._  
  
He retired to his bedroom, his heart heavy with the prospect of the daunting task before him. _I have to get rid of it. Even if I can’t destroy it, someone else might be able to_. He dug through his dresser drawer, frantically searching for his locket. For his sixteenth birthday, his mother had gifted him with a fine goblin-crafted locket, his initials, R.A.B. engraved into it. He pulled it from the drawer, removing the locket from the velvet lined box he’d stored it in. He stood silently for some time, the metal of the locket cool in his warm hands. He lowered himself onto his bed, locket still in hand, as he considered his best course of action. He frowned, brows furrowed as he weighed his options. _Regardless, something has to be done. I have to stop him. If I try and run, he’ll kill me anyway._  
  
“Kreacher.”  
  
With a small pop, Kreacher appeared, offering Regulus a small bow. “Master requires Kreacher’s assistance?” the house elf asked.  
  
“Kreacher... I need you to take me to the cave where the dark- Voldemort took you,” Regulus said lowly, each word carefully thought out.  
  
Kreacher blanched, eyeing Regulus fearfully. “But Master... Kreacher doesn’t think it would be best to-”  
  
“Kreacher, I order you to take me to the cave. I am going to drink from the basin and exchange Voldemort’s locket with this-” he paused, holding up his locket. “You must take the locket and destroy it.”  
  
“But master, how will you-”  
  
“You have to leave me there, Kreacher.”  
  
“But Master Regulus-”  
  
“As soon as I have exchanged the lockets, you must apparate home. Apparate home and leave me there, Kreacher. No matter how much I beg you to do otherwise. You must apparate home and tell no one where I went. And you _must destroy the locket_. Do you understand?” Regulus asked sharply.  
  
Kreacher nodded, his eyes widening in fear. “But Master, please-”  
  
“Kreacher, do you promise to do as I say?”  
  
“Kreacher promises, Master Regulus,” the house elf stammered, eyes still widened in fear.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“When must I take you there, Master Regulus?” the elf asked quietly, it’s lips quivering.  
  
“Tomorrow. There’s someone I must pay a visit to before we go,” Regulus said retorted, gaze focused on the floor.

* * *

Evelyn paced the sitting room floor, glancing anxiously at the clock. _Half past four_. She’d received a frantic owl from Regulus, asking to meet with her, alone. He’d said that he would arrive around four, and to ensure that Sirius was not present. She tapped her foot nervously, glancing at the liquor cabinet in the the corner. _A glass of gin would be nice_. Sirius had left the house earlier in the day, giving no indication of when he would return. _He never tells me when he’ll be home, anymore. Or where he’s going, even_. She sighed heavily, approaching the liquor cabinet. Delicately, she poured a healthy measure of gin into a cut crystal tumbler, shakily bringing the glass to her lips. She took a sip, sighing contently as she felt the warm sensation of liquor pouring down her throat. _Much better_. She strode towards the couch, settling down with her feet tucked under her, glass firmly grasped in her right hand. As she stared down into her glass, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps in the kitchen. “I’m in the sitting room,” she called out, unconsciously reaching for her wand.  
  
Moments later, Regulus emerged, wiping soot from his robes. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized, taking a seat beside her on the couch.  
  
“It’s alright... He’s not in... I’m not sure when he’ll be back.. Probably not until late,” Evelyn replied, her lips pressed firmly into a straight line.  
  
Regulus nodded, his gray eyes exposing a mixture of fear and worry.   
  
“What’s the matter, Reg?” Evelyn asked softly, placing her glass down on the coffee table.  
  
Regulus sighed, burying his face in his hands. “Before I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell _anyone_ this, Evelyn. Especially Sirius,” he mumbled, his words barely audible.  
  
Evelyn frowned, eyeing Regulus suspiciously. “Why?”  
  
Regulus sighed, removing his hands to face her. “Because what I am about to tell you is of utter significance, Evelyn. If word of what I am about to do once I leave here were to fall into the wrong hands, it would ruin everything.”  
  
Evelyn froze, understanding. “It’s... this is about the horcrux, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Regulus nodded grimly. “Promise me, Evelyn.”  
  
Evelyn bit down on her lower lip, considering. “This... you’re not coming back after this, are you?” she asked, lower lip quivering.  
  
Regulus nodded, tightening his jaw. “I have to do _something_ , Evie. _He_ needs to be stopped. I’m certain this isn’t the only horcrux, but at least if I destroy this one, and he doesn’t know about it, that’s one nail in his coffin. He’s _evil_ , Evelyn. And you know as well as I that there’s no way out of this. If I defect, he’ll find me and kill me. I’d rather die fighting him than die a coward.”  
  
“We could reach out to Dumbledore... He could...”  
  
“Evelyn,” Regulus said sharply, his lips forming a scowl. “Don’t you see that Dumbledore can’t protect _any_ of us from _him_? He’s used my brother as a pawn in this ridiculous game of chess and I blame him for what Sirius has become.”  
  
Evelyn stared down at her hands, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“It’ll break his heart, Reg. I don’t know... I don’t know what he’ll do if he loses you,” she said quietly.  
  
“Watch over him for me, Evelyn. There’s still good inside of him... you have to get him to snap out of this. He’s not _like_ the rest of them. Voldemort’s brainwashed him. You need to save him before they take all of the good from inside him.”  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Maybe if he understood _why_ you’re doing this, he’d-”  
  
“He can’t know, Evelyn. He’s totally submersed in Voldemort’s rhetoric. If he were to hear what I’m about to do, he’d probably kill me himself. Or turn me over to the others, which would be a worse fate, still. No, it has to be this way,” he said, determined.  
  
Evelyn nodded, reaching for her drink. _Merlin, give me the strength to fulfill what has been asked of me._ “Okay, okay. I will.” With shaky hands, she brought the glass to her lips, draining the contents.  
  
“Regulus,” she sobbed, hot tears trickling down her cheeks.   
  
“You have to be strong, Evelyn. For Sirius. For me. We have to keep fighting. If Voldemort wins this war...” he paused, his lips forming a grim expression.  
  
“I know,” Evelyn sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just... who am I supposed to turn to, once you’re gone? No one else knows... I don’t trust Dumbledore... we can’t speak to any of Sirius’ friends without drawing the ire of both parties involved... it’s just me and him and he’s changed so much and it terrifies me.”  
  
“You are one of the brightest witches I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my lifetime,” Regulus said calmly, rising to his feet. “If anyone can handle this, even alone, it is you. Sirius loves you. _You_ are his family. I have always been of the opinion that love triumphs over all. Therefore, I am confident that regardless of how much Voldemort and the Death Eaters may poison him with their disgusting beliefs, his loyalty to you will always win out. He’ll see the light. But you have to keep trying to get him to see the light, and pull him out of this.”  
  
“I’ll try.. I swear I’ll try...” Evelyn sobbed, rising to her feet, as well.   
  
Regulus pulled her into an embrace, patting her back as she sobbed onto his shoulder. “It’s been nice, having you as a sister,” he said softly, pulling away, to face her.  
  
Evelyn nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re so brave, Regulus.”  
  
Regulus shrugged, lips forming a grim line. “I’m no braver than anyone else, Evelyn. I’m just doing what must be done to protect my family. That’s what has always been the most important thing to me... _Loyalty to family_. Take care of Sirius for me.” 

* * *

Evelyn stood stiffly beside Sirius, her black kid-skin gloved fingers entwined with Sirius’ rough callused ones as they watched Regulus’ coffin be lowered into the ground. Beside them, Walburga Black sobbed loudly onto her husband’s shoulder, his neat starched mourning robes doing nothing to muffle her grievous sounds. Sirius stood silently, his eyes focused on the coffin. Evelyn bit her lip, watching her husband’s gaze. His eyes had an unfamiliar look to them; while still their usual piercing gray, there was a coldness she had not before seen in them. _He’s furious. He’s absolutely enraged with grief._ She squeezed his hand gently, brushing away tears with her stray hand. The night before, as Sirius had sat in the sitting room, drinking too much firewhiskey and crying silent tears, she had considered breaking her vow to Regulus, the sight of Sirius in so much pain too much for her to bear. However, she’d considered his words, and upon hearing Sirius’ sharp accusations that the Order had killed his brother, resolved to keep her word. She’d made herself a stiff drink, put on a stiff upper lip and had sat by her husband’s side, whispering soothing words into his ear as he cried over the loss of his baby brother. _I have to be strong for him. I have to._  
  
Evelyn obediently stayed by Sirius’ side as he made his rounds through the gathering of people at the grave, thanking them for coming. She kept her eyes cast downward as a group of Death Eaters approached them, clasping her hands in front of her as Sirius accepted apologetic embraces from Nott, Avery, and Macnair.   
  
“It was the Order that got him, no doubt,” Avery said roughly, clapping Sirius on the back.  
  
Evelyn bit her lip as she watched Sirius’ expression from the corner of her eye, stifling a gasp as she caught sight of the murderous rage glowering in his eyes.   
  
“We’ll make sure they pay for what they’ve done, Sirius,” Macnair remarked, his lips curled into a sinister grimace. “Your brother was a hell of a man. It’s a tragedy that he be taken so young.”  
  
“Yes,” Sirius replied curtly, his expression unreadable. “And you’re right. They _will_ pay.”  
  
Upon their return home, Sirius retired to his study, bottle of firewhiskey in hand. Evelyn went to follow him but paused, disheartened, as she heard the familiar _click_ of the door locking behind him. With a heavy heart, she settled into the sitting room, pouring herself a glass of gin. _Oh, Regulus. What am I supposed to do? This may have... I’m afraid this may have made things worse. Oh Merlin, I hope you succeeded. I hope you destroyed the horcrux_. The sound of stirring in the kitchen sent a wave of panic through her. Shakily, she rose to her feet, wand drawn, as she entered the kitchen.  
  
“Evelyn,” Dumbledore greeted her, his piercing blue eyes watching her critically.  
  
“Yes?” she asked brusquely, dropping her wand to her side.  
  
“I need to speak with Sirius.”  
  
Evelyn frowned. “We’ve just returned home from his brother’s funeral... now isn’t a good time.”  
  
“I’m afraid I must insist,” Dumbledore pressed, shooting her a knowing look.  
  
Evelyn shook her head resolutely. “My husband is in no state to receive visitors. We just buried his little brother... I feel we’re owed some sort of reprieve, given the circumstances,” Evelyn retorted sharply, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“I haven’t received word of Sirius’ progress in weeks,” Dumbledore continued, eyeing Evelyn suspiciously.  
  
Evelyn sighed, rolling her eyes. “I apologize if he hasn’t been updating you as frequently as you desire, _sir_. But I assure you, he would have contacted you if he _had_ anything of _note_ to inform you of.”  
  
“Evelyn-”  
  
“He’s not going to speak with you this evening, _sir_. My Sirius is overwhelmed with grief. He just lost his brother, for Merlin’s sake. Will you _please_ allow us to grieve in peace?” Evelyn interrupted, shooting him a furtive look.  
  
Dumbledore sighed, resigned. “Very well. My condolences to you both. Please have Sirius owl me as soon as he is in a right enough state of mind to resume tasks pertaining to his mission.”  
  
With a flourish of his wand, Dumbledore disapparated from the kitchen, leaving Evelyn to collapse to the floor in a fit of tears. _What am I going to do? If Voldemort doesn’t end up killing us, Dumbledore probably will._  
  
Shakily, she rose to her feet, wiping her tear stained face with the back of her hand. She quietly approached Sirius’ study, meekly rapping at the door. “Sirius?” she asked quietly.  
  
_Silence_. At last, she heard the door creak open, Sirius observing her from the crack in the door. “Yes?” he asked dully, his breath reeking of firewhiskey.  
  
“Can we talk?” she asked lowly.  
  
He nodded, opening the door to grant her entry. She settled into a vacant armchair, watching as Sirius settled behind his desk, immediately reaching for his tumbler of firewhiskey. “Well?” he asked, bringing the glass to his lips.  
  
“Dumbledore just called on you... I sent him away,” Evelyn said, forcing herself to sound calmer than she felt.  
  
Sirius’ eyes blazed, as he gripped his tumbler harder. Evelyn watched, lips pressed tightly together as he sloshed more firewhiskey into his glass, sloppily spilling a fair amount onto the mahogany desk.  
  
Instinctively, she rose to her feet, dabbing at the spill with the hem of her dress. “Don’t want it to stain,” she said weakly, blinking to force tears back from her eyes.  
  
Sirius nodded, bringing the glass to his lips. “We’re done with Dumbledore. _Done_.”  
  
Evelyn nodded weakly, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. “But what if he-”  
  
“ _Fuck_ Dumbledore,” Sirius spat, his lips curling into a look of utter disgust. “What has he done for me, for _us_? We give and we give, and how are we repaid? He let’s _those people_ kill my _brother_!” he shouted, slamming his glass down on his desk, for emphasis.   
  
“I’ll shut off our floo connection, alright?” Evelyn asked nervously, eyeing Sirius with a faint sense of fear.   
  
Sirius nodded curtly. “You’re good with charms, aren’t you?” he asked.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Of course...”  
  
“I don’t want _him_ to be able to enter our home. Do whatever you have to, set jinxes, whatever. Just make sure that Dumbledore can’t get here,” Sirius slurred, slamming his fist against the desk.  
  
“Of course, love,” Evelyn said gently, quickly approaching him. She placed a hand over his, eyeing him worriedly. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink, tonight?”  
  
Sirius’ eyes clouded with anger. “I’ll _tell_ you when I’ve had enough,” he said sharply, reaching for the bottle of firewhiskey.   
  
Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, paused, then closed her mouth. “Alright, love. I better see to setting these charms and whatnot,” she said lowly, turning to leave the room.  
  
“He was only eighteen, Evie. _Why_ did they have to kill him?” Sirius choked, his voice filled with emotion.  
  
Evelyn stopped in her tracks, clutching at her chest as she felt a pang of guilt strike her heart. _Damn it, Regulus. Damn you, for making me swear to keep this from him_. “I’m so sorry, Sirius,” she sobbed, turning around and returning to his side.  
  
She choked back a sob as Sirius motioned for her to sit in his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “I miss him so much,” Sirius said lowly, wrapping an arm tightly around Evelyn’s waist.  
  
“I know, love,” she whispered, nuzzling his shoulder.

* * *

Remus entered the smoke-filled Leaky Cauldron, carefully scanning the room for familiar black hair. Upon hearing of Regulus’ passing, he’d visited Sirius’ home, where a teary-eyed Evelyn had told him that Sirius had gone out to clear his head and wasn’t sure when he’d be home. After making the preliminary rounds of the pubs in Hogsmeade and a quick peak into The World’s End, he’d found himself before the familiar entrance of the London Wizarding pub, grasping at straws as to where Sirius could possibly be.  
  
At the far end of the bar, he caught sight of Sirius slumped forward over a tumbler of firewhiskey, his hair shielding his face from view. Quietly, Remus approached him, offering Tom the barman a quick hello before lowering himself onto the bar stool beside Sirius. “Sirius,” he said lowly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  
  
He drew his arm back as he felt Sirius’ muscles tighten in response to his touch. “I’m so sorry about Regulus... I... wanted to see how you are,” he started, nervously picking at his cuticles.  
  
Sirius looked up from his drink, his eyes red-rimmed, dark shadows beneath them. “How dare you say his name in front of me,” Sirius said hoarsely, reaching for his drink and gulping back the remainder, slamming the glass back down onto the bar. “ _You’re_ the reason that he’s dead.”  
  
“Sirius, I don’t know what you-”  
  
“Don’t,” Sirius growled, holding a hand out in front of him as he wobbly rose to his feet. “I don’t want to hear it, Remus. I already know the Order had him killed. I’m sure Dumbledore did it to spite _me_. Or Moody. He’s always despised me.”  
  
Remus watched silently, horrified, as Sirius swayed slightly, his eyes glowering with pure unadulterated hatred. “I’m so sorry, Padfo-”  
  
“Don’t. I suppose you told _them_ , didn’t you? I should have known you couldn’t keep your word,” Sirius interrupted, his words slightly slurred as he gripped onto his vacated bar stool to stay upright.  
  
“Sirius, I swear I didn’t, I would _never_...”  
  
“Forget it. Stay the fuck away from me, _werewolf_. Because if you don’t, I swear on my brother’s grave that my face will be the _last_ thing you’ll ever see,” Sirius breathed, his words hitting Remus like a dagger to the heart.  
  
Remus stood silently as Sirius angrily slammed a wad of cash down onto the bar before turning on his heel, disappearing into the crowd.


	21. Chapter 21

Lucius stood beside Snape, fingers balled into fists, as he observed Sirius from across the circle of Death Eaters, bearing his obnoxious, self-assured smirk.  
  
“It is most unfortunate that a member of our ranks was killed by the Order,” Voldemort continued, from his position in the middle of the circle.  
  
“However, we will not let his death be ignored. Reparations must be made.”  
  
Lucius felt his shoulders stiffen as the surrounding Death Eaters cheered loudly, voicing their agreement.  
  
“As one of my most _loyal followers_ and the brother of our fallen comrade, I feel that Sirius would be best suited to lead this campaign against the Order,” Voldemort drawled, motioning for Sirius to step forward.  
  
Lucius bit his tongue, drawing blood. _Disgusting. How could he possibly think that Black is a more loyal follower than I? After the years of service I have put forth?_  
  
He turned his head to face Snape, whose lips were drawn tightly together, his eyes blazing with hatred as he watched Sirius, who had begun to address the group.  
  
“I wish it had been him and not his brother,” Malfoy hissed, barely moving his lips as he addressed the man beside him.  
  
Snape snorted, his lips forming a slight smirk. “Indeed, it was the wrong Black that died,” Snape whispered.  
  
As Voldemort cast a glance at the pair, Lucius straightened up, his thoughts racing as he blocked out the sound of Sirius’ voice. _I can’t believe she chose him over me. What in Merlin’s name does he have that makes him so special? What does he have that I don’t?_ He frowned, glaring in the raven haired man’s direction. _He’s so arrogant. Look at him, strutting about as if he’s the one calling the shots. Pathetic._  
  
Unconsciously, he folded his arms against his chest, glaring menacingly. He gazed across the room, purposely keeping Sirius from out of his line of vision, fantasizing various bloody scenarios in which Sirius wound up dead.  
  
“Are you paying attention, _Malfoy_?” a familiar voice rang out, mockingly.  
  
Lucius shook his head, glancing about the room for the source of the voice.  
  
“Well?” Sirius sneered, approaching Lucius, pausing only mere centimeters away.  
  
“Of course I’m paying attention,” Lucius spat, shooting Sirius a furious look.  
  
“It didn’t seem that way,” Sirius retorted, taking a step closer still, his face uncomfortably close to Lucius’.  
  
“Tell me Lucius, why _was_ it that you were the only Death Eater not in attendance at my brother’s funeral?” Sirius asked lowly, accusingly. “Was it because you’re glad that his death meant one person out of the way from forcing you further down the totem pole than you already are, or because you’re still _jealous_ that my wife chose me over _you_?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Lucius whispered, taking a step back.  
  
“I see,” Sirius smirked, his gray eyes blazing with hatred. “That answered that.”  
  
“Lucius,” Snape hissed, placing a hand on Lucius’ shoulder as Sirius sauntered away, returning to Voldemort’s side. “Don’t. Let it go. It’s not worth it.”  
  
“I _hate_ him,” Lucius breathed, clenching his fists tightly, fingernails digging angrily into his skin.  
  
“Don’t make a scene. Let it go and calm down.”  
  
“Fine,” Lucius huffed, scowling. “I just... _I hate him_.”

* * *

Evelyn glanced up from the paperwork shuffled across Sirius’ desk, distracted by the sound of knocking at the front door. She’d settled into Sirius’ office with the intention of getting some planning done for an upcoming charity event, and had lost track of the time. She rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt down as she made her way down the hall to the front door. She paused a moment, wand drawn, as she peered through the peephole. Sighing, she opened the door a crack, dropping her wand arm to her side. “Hello, Lucius,” she said dully.  
  
“Evelyn,” Lucius replied warmly, taking a step forward, “it’s been too long.”  
  
Evelyn forced a smile, opening the door fully. “Indeed,” she agreed, stiffly accepting Lucius’ embrace.  
  
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked evenly, folding her arms against her chest as she stood in the doorway, blocking Lucius from entering the house.  
  
“I came to offer my condolences. I’m so sorry Narcissa and I couldn’t attend the funeral... I hope you’ve been holding up alright, given the circumstances,” Lucius replied, offering Evelyn a sympathetic look.  
  
“I’m hardly the one you should be offering condolences to, Lucius. It’s my husband who lost his brother,” Evelyn retorted, her lips pressed firmly together. “Besides, the funeral was a _month_ ago. Which strikes your condolences as rather _insincere_ , don’t you think?”  
  
“I miss you, Evelyn. Why don’t we grab a drink?”  
  
“It’s inappropriate, Lucius. I’m married. As are you.”  
  
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Evelyn... I need you. I know you’re cross with me for marrying Narcissa, but really... You don’t really want to be with Black, do you?” he asked, his eyes widening with desperation. “It’s always been you and I, E. You’ve had your fun, and I learned my lesson, now please. Don’t do this to me, anymore.”  
  
“I am a happily married woman,” Evelyn retorted, anger rising in her cheeks, “and I suggest that you not forget that.”  
  
“Evelyn,” Lucius started, reaching forward and placing a hand on her waist.  
  
“What are you doing?” Evelyn snapped, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Get off of me,” she muttered, roughly peeling Lucius’ hand off of her. “I’m not your property, Lucius.”  
  
“Evelyn, please. Don’t be like this... We were so happy, before Black ruined everything.”  
  
“I don’t love you, Lucius,” Evelyn said sharply, drawing her wand. “I don’t want you, anymore. I love Sirius. I suggest you go home to your wife. Who is carrying your child.”  
  
Lucius froze, taken aback by Evelyn’s statement.  
  
“Don’t look so surprised, Lucius, of course I know,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Evelyn-”  
  
“Lucius,” Evelyn interrupted, rolling her eyes, “get off my doorstep or I’ll curse you off of it.”  
  
“And you know I will, too,” she added, a dangerous gleam flickering in her eyes.  
  
“You bitch,” Lucius growled, reaching for his wand.  
  
Evelyn drew hers quicker, pointing directly at his chest. “If you think I won’t kill you, you’re a fool,” she whispered, her voice low, dangerous. “Go. Now. Or your child will grow up without a father.”  
  
Lucius glowered, shooting Evelyn a murderous look before disapparating, leaving Evelyn standing alone at her doorway. She sighed heavily, shutting the door behind her. _What the fuck has gotten into him? As if Sirius isn’t enough to handle at the moment... Now Lucius, too?_ She squeezed her eyes shut, running her fingers through her hair. _Dear Merlin, help me._

* * *

“I can’t believe the nerve she had, to point her wand at me,” Lucius fumed, pacing before the fireplace.  
  
He’d apparated home to Malfoy Manor and had immediately summoned Snape, who he’d recounted the afternoon’s events to.  
  
“Honestly, Lucius,” Snape replied in a bored tone, examining his fingernails, “sometimes I wonder if we’re even talking about the same _person_ when you discuss _her_.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Lucius snapped, shooting Snape an accusatory look.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes, crossing one leg over the other. “What I _mean_ , Lucius, is that none of this sounds surprising. Evelyn has always been a talented witch. With a fiery temper. _Of course_ she’d point her wand at you and make threats... she’s never been your standard shrinking violet of a pure-blooded girl, now has she?”  
  
Lucius shrugged, head tilted, as he considered.  
  
“And as I told you _already_ , she’s in love with Black,” Snape added, rolling his eyes for effect.  
  
“I won’t stand for this,” Lucius muttered, staring into the fireplace.  
  
“I don’t understand your fixation on her,” Snape sighed, rapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “You have Narcissa. And your first-born child on the way. Move on. It’s apparent that _she_ has.”  
  
“I’ll put the tart bitch in her place. _No one_ , rejects Lucius Malfoy.”  
  
Snape observed the blond for a moment, a single eyebrow raised. “You’re not suggesting that you’re going to-”  
  
“Why shouldn’t I?” Lucius replied huffily, arms folded against his chest.  
  
“She’ll hate you. And Black will probably kill you if you do. Don’t do it, Lucius.”  
  
“I don’t understand your opposition to this, Sev. After all, haven’t you been telling me to _move on_? This is my closure,” Lucius retorted, shrugging.  
  
“Do you really hate Black so much that you’d do that to _her_ , someone you supposedly _love_ , just to get even with him, or whatever it is you’re so desperate to accomplish?”  
  
“It isn’t about that!” Lucius shouted, his icy blue eyes shooting daggers in Snape’s direction.  
  
“If this is _really_ about your _alleged_ love of Evelyn and _not_ about your intense jealousy of Black, then you’re even sicker than I thought you were,” Snape noted, clicking his tongue in disgust.  
  
“Watch your tongue, _Severus_ ,” Lucius warned.  
  
“And why should I?” Snape countered, rising to his feet. “You’ve no problem voicing your opinions on _my_ feelings towards Lily Evans-”  
  
“Potter. Lily Potter,” Lucius corrected, shooting Snape a self-satisfactory smirk.  
  
“ _Yes_ , Lily Potter,” Snape retorted, through gritted teeth. “And I graciously accept your chiding and incessant remarks that I am foolish for wasting my time and energy caring about her, yet you cannot accept a single word I say regarding your obsession with Evelyn _Black_?”  
  
Lucius stared silently at the taller man, his upper lip curling upward, forming a snarl.  
  
“Oh, you don’t like that, do you?” Snape observed, smirking at the blond. “She is Evelyn _Black_ , just as Lily is Lily _Potter_ , Lucius. It’s high time you accept that Black won and move on.”  
  
“You’re hardly one to talk about moving on, _Sev_.”  
  
“What are you inferring, Lucius?” Severus asked warily, eyeing the blond suspiciously.  
  
“You can drop the act, Severus. I believe you overheard a _prophecy_ regarding the dark lord?” Lucius asked, eyeing Severus expectantly.  
  
“It’s uncertain _who_ specifically the prophecy is about. But she’s with child. She’s due in July...”  
  
“And yet you made another pleading attempt to beg that he spare your precious Lily, didn’t you, _Severus_?” Lucius asked accusingly.  
  
“At least I’m trying to _protect_ the woman I love,” Snape replied evenly, scowling. “Whereas you-”  
  
“I _want_ her, Severus. And if she won’t give herself willingly, then I’ll _take it_.”  
  
Snape frowned, folding his arms against his chest. “Very well, then. You’re going to do as you wish, so I won’t waste my breath. I’ll be on my way, as I want no part in this.”  
  
He paused, considering. “Bear in mind, Lucius, that should you go through with this, retaliation is inevitable. I have no doubt in my mind that _Black_ will kill you, if you so much as lay a hand on his wife.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of him,” Lucius scoffed.  
  
Snape observed the blond for a moment, bemused by his utter arrogance.  
  
“Much as it pains me to say it, Lucius, _Black_ is a force to be reckoned with.”  
  
“Are you suggesting that he is a more powerful wizard than I?” Lucius asked coolly, twirling his wand between his fingers, his eyes boring holes into Snape’s, silently challenging him to disagree.  
  
Snape remained silent, offering no response save for a single raised eyebrow. “I want no part in this, Lucius.”  
  
“You honestly believe that, don’t you?” Lucius asked coolly, shooting Snape an icy glare. “You believe _Black_ to be a more powerful wizard than I.”  
  
“I feel that you underestimate the rage you would incite in him, to do _that_ to his _wife_. The woman he loves.”  
  
“One would think that you would take pleasure in watching your _enemy_ suffer,” Lucius said mockingly, eyeing Severus with contempt.  
  
“I would like nothing more than to witness _Black_ suffer as a result of his own arrogance,” Snape countered, his eyes narrowing to slits.  
  
“I suppose you should be going... perhaps to go stalk your red-headed mud-bl-”  
  
“I thought I told you to _never_ use that word in front of me,” Severus snarled, drawing his wand and pointing it at the blond.  
  
“You’re pathetic, _Snape_ ,” Lucius sneered, rolling his eyes. “Still pining away over your unrequited love. At least _Evelyn_ actually _loves_ me.”  
  
“Loved. As in past-tense, Lucius,” Snape retorted, lowering his wand. “And such feelings will soon be replaced with hatred if you go through with what your planning.”

* * *

Evelyn sighed heavily as she poured herself another glass of gin. _My third glass_ , she observed, shrugging her shoulders. _Well, why the hell not? It’s not like I’ve anything better to do, this evening_. She glanced at the clock on the wall. _Eleven PM._ As per usual, Sirius had left the house without giving any indication of when he would return, and she had resumed her usual routine of waiting up for him, like the good wife that she was. She settled onto the couch, tucking her feet under her. She thumbed through an issue of Witch Weekly, pausing only to take sips of her drink. _Where are you, Sirius?_  
  
Since the funeral, Evelyn had seen less and less of her husband. He appeared to only return home to shower, change clothes, and catch a few hours sleep before disappearing again. She’d considered mentioning Lucius’ unannounced visit to him, but had decided against it. _He already comes home with enough blood on his hands. No need to throw him into even more of a rage_. Indeed, Sirius’ mood had changed drastically since his brother’s death. He appeared to be worked up into a frenzy, returning home with gleeful accounts of how many muggles he’d killed that day, a nauseating sense of pride in his tone. It took every fiber of self-control in Evelyn’s body to keep herself from showing anything but a neutral reaction. Even though every cell in her body was screaming for her to confront him, to shake him until he saw reason and woke up from this spell Voldemort had apparently cast over him.  
  
Several times, she’d nearly caved and owled Dumbledore. She had even gone so far as to write out a letter detailing the change in Sirius’ behavior, begging for help, at last admitting that Sirius had certainly been brainwashed by Voldemort. However, she’d burnt the letter, her promise to Regulus ringing in her ears. _You have to take care of him. Dumbledore will kill him if he finds out he’s turned sides. You promised to protect him... It’s up to you to pull him out of this nightmare._  
  
She turned her head as she heard the familiar creaking of the front door opening. “You’re awake,” Sirius said brightly, entering the sitting room.  
  
“I am,” she agreed, placing her magazine and drink aside and turning to face him. “How was your day, dear?”  
  
“Brilliant,” Sirius replied, smiling brightly.  
  
Evelyn forced a smile, averting her eyes from the blood dripping off his robes. She made a mental note to scrub the couches the following morning, almost certain that the dripping blood would stain the fabric. “What happened?” she asked lightly, her tone much calmer than she was actually feeling.  
  
“I had a meeting with Voldemort,” he divulged, grinning widely. “As his _most loyal_ follower, he feels that I should be actively involved in his most important plans.”  
  
Evelyn nodded curtly, biting her tongue and drawing blood as she struggled to maintain her composure.  
  
“We’ve planned a hit on several Order members.”  
  
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, silently urging Sirius to continue, as she reached for her drink.  
  
“The Prewett brothers. We’ve been watching them for a while now, and it seems that they regularly visit their sister... You know the one... she married a Weasley, I believe,” Sirius continued, frowning.  
  
“Molly Prewett,” Evelyn offered, taking a sharp breath as she brought her glass to her lips, taking a deep sip.  
  
“Yes, I believe so,” Sirius affirmed, shrugging. “Anyway, she lives in the middle of nowhere... so we’re going to follow the Prewett’s there, then attack. Even if their sister and Weasley aren’t officially _in_ the Order, they’re both blood-traitors. So there’s no real loss there, getting rid of them in the process-”  
  
“Do you even hear yourself?” Evelyn asked shrilly, slamming her glass onto the table.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” Sirius retorted, eyeing her critically.  
  
“What’s gotten into _me_?” Evelyn asked incredulously, rising to her feet. “The real question is what’s gotten into _you_ , Sirius? This isn’t you.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked lowly, his gray eyes clouding with anger.  
  
“I mean that I barely even know who you _are_ , anymore. Do you even remember which side you’re _supposed_ to be fighting for?” she screamed, gesturing her arms wildly.  
  
“I already _told_ you, Evelyn... Dumbledore was using us! He didn’t recognize my skills, my talents... _Voldemort does_! He sees that I am _extraordinary_! He is helping me reach my potential!” Sirius screamed, rising to his feet, as well.  
  
“Don’t you see that you’re being _manipulated_? Are you really so daft that you don’t see that you are nothing more than a pawn to Voldemort, another cog in his machine?” Evelyn retorted, shooting Sirius a furious look.  
  
“Shut your fucking mouth you stupid _whore_ ,” Sirius growled, menacingly approaching her, his right hand balling up into a fist.  
  
“Oh, are you going to _hit_ me, Sirius? Is that it? Should I be _afraid_ of you?” she taunted, shooting him a filthy look.  
  
“I’m your _husband_. How dare you speak to me with such disrespect,” Sirius retorted, reaching for his wand from his robe’s pocket.  
  
“Oh, wait. You’re going to curse me instead, aren’t you _Siri_?” she sneered, reaching for her wand, as well. “I suppose that’s the logical progression...first you were killing muggles, then blood-traitors, now you’re planning on killing women and children, _of course_ I’m naturally the next target, aren’t I?’  
  
Sirius gripped his wand tighter, taking a step toward her.  
  
“Which one is it going to be, Siri?” she laughed coldly, pointing her wand at him. “ _Crucio_?” she asked. “I know how fond you are of that one. Or maybe the Imperius... After all, you almost put me under that one all of two weeks into our marriage,” she continued, her nose wrinkled in disgust.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Evelyn. “He’s brainwashed you, don’t you see that? _This isn’t you_. The Sirius I know, the Sirius I fell in love with, would never be so _weak_ and _pathetic_ as to gleefully anticipate murdering innocent women and children-”  
  
Sirius grabbed Evelyn by the throat, using brute strength to slam her against the wall. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner,” Sirius growled, his eyes gleaming with manic rage.  
  
“I should have gone to Dumbledore immediately, when I saw you changing. You need to wake up and see the writing on the wall, Sirius; you are being _brainwashed_ by that vile excuse for a human being. He’s _destroying_ you, Sirius,” Evelyn continued, staring directly into Sirius’ eyes as he gripped her throat tighter, her expression calm.  
  
Sirius drew his wand up, pointing it squarely at her chest. Evelyn matched his stare, defiantly tilting her chin upward. “Go ahead, _do it_ ,” she said mockingly, her lips contorting into a snarl. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” she continued, struggling to speak as he gripped tighter, still.  
  
“You’re the man, _right_? You have to put your insubordinate _woman_ in her place, don’t you? So _do it_. Go ahead and kill me, then.”  
  
Sirius began to mutter _avada_ before sucking a deep breath inward, his eyes widening in realization.  
  
“Oh my... I almost..” he said lowly, dropping his wand to the floor.  
  
He let go of his hold on Evelyn’s throat, staring down at his hands, a horrified expression on his face.  
  
“What did I almost do?” he asked, shaking his head.  
  
“You wanted to _kill_ me,” Evelyn calmly replied, eyeing him with disgust.  
  
“Evelyn, I’m so sorry-”  
  
“You fucking _should_ be,” she retorted, shoving him away from her as he made to pull her into an embrace.  
  
“Fucking arsehole,” she added, folding her arms against her chest.  
  
“Evelyn, I’m sorry, I didn’t... I’m so sorry...” Sirius continued, watching her helplessly as she stalked across the room, away from him.  
  
“I didn’t think you would do it... but you... you almost _did_ ,” she said accusingly, shakily reaching for her abandoned glass of gin.  
  
She tossed her head back, draining the contents before slamming the glass down onto the coffee table.  
  
“I would never hurt you, Evie,” Sirius said lowly, approaching her. “Please. You have to believe me... I wasn’t... I wasn’t _thinking_.”  
  
“No,” Evelyn retorted shrilly, “you _weren’t_ , were you?”  
  
“Tell me how I can fix this? What can I do? Please?” he begged, gently laying a hand on her arm.  
  
Evelyn observed him a moment, her features cold. “Make yourself useful and fetch me a gin, neat,” she sighed, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Evelyn.”  
  
“I know. I know.”  
  
Evelyn lowered herself onto the couch, hands shaking, as she observed Sirius from across the room, his own hands shaking as he struggled to pour a glass of gin, spilling a fair amount onto the floor. Evelyn sighed, rising to her feet.  
  
Wordlessly, she approached him, placing her hands gently over his, to quell his tremors. “Sirius,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Evelyn,” he breathed, reaching up and lovingly stroking her hair. “You have to forgive me,” he started, his lips trembling as he blinked his eyes, forcing back tears.  
  
“It’s okay, Sirius,” she said softly, closing her eyes and deeply inhaling his scent, ignoring the fact that the blood on his robes was seeping into raw-silk sheath as she pressed her body closer to his, pulling him into an embrace. “I love you, Sirius. Merlin...I... I would have let you kill me, I love you so damn much.”  
  
“I could never do that to you, Evie,” Sirius whispered, nuzzling against her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. _Lilac_ ,he thought, pulling her closer to him.  
  
“Nothing else matters except for you, Evelyn. _Nothing_.”


	22. Chapter 22

Evelyn examined her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her white lace shift dress. She was due to meet with the ladies of the St. Mungo’s board for tea in forty minutes, and was running late. She froze as she heard the front door opening. “Sirius?” she called out, her eyes still focused on her reflection in the mirror.  
  
She stood for a moment, receiving only silence in response. _Oh well. He does tend to just wander in and go off to sulk when he’s in a mood. Perhaps he had a bad meeting with the Death Eaters_. She shrugged, turning her attention to fixing her lipstick. Once satisfied that it was perfect, she grabbed her purse from off the liquor cabinet, prepared to leave for her meeting. As she reached for her wand, she felt strong a strong grasp around her neck, another hand gripping tightly around her right wrist. “Going somewhere?” a familiar voice whispered, his breath hot against her ear.  
  
“Lucius,” she choked, struggling to break free from his hold. “Let go of me!”  
  
“Oh, no. I don’t think I will,” he laughed coldly, twisting her wrist sharply, sending white-hot pain shooting up her arm.  
  
involuntarily, she dropped her wand, her fingers unable to continue to grasp it. She struggled to reach for it but felt another sharp pain as Lucius pulled her arm back, removing his grip on her neck to retrieve the wand. “No, no. No need for you to have that, you silly girl,” he chided, tossing the wand across the room.  
  
Evelyn craned her neck, catching sight of it beneath the coffee table. _If I can just get to it, I can fight him off_. Without a moment of hesitation, she grabbed the nearest object off the liquor cabinet with her free hand, swinging it towards Lucius’ head. She screamed as she missed her target, instead shattering the decanter of firewhiskey against the wall. “Get off of me!” she screamed, attempting to throw her weight against him, as a means of escaping his grip.  
  
“I’m quite cross with you, Evelyn,” Lucius whispered, pulling her so that she was facing him. “Surely you should know after all these years that I _always_ get what I want.”  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Sirius will-”  
  
“And yet Sirius isn’t here, is he?” Lucius asked, his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re _mine_ , Evie. Always have been, always will be.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Evelyn spat, wincing as she felt Lucius grab her other wrist, twisting it until she sunk to the floor in pain.  
  
“Come on now, on your feet. You should be honored that I want you, _desire_ you,” Lucius barked, carelessly pulling her upright.  
  
“So beautiful,” he remarked, lightly stroking her cheek.  
  
Evelyn’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she drew all the spittle she could muster, spitting in his face. “You’re sick.”  
  
_Smack_. She recoiled, nearly falling back as Lucius slapped her across the face, splitting her lip from the force. “You stupid bitch,” he muttered, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.   
  
“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking futilely as Lucius threw her onto the sofa, holding her down with one hand as he unbuckled his belt with the other.  
  
“I want you to remember every second of this,” he hissed, stepping out of his trousers and approaching her, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, as she recoiled in disgust.  
  
She struggled as his hands grazed over her body, wincing at the sound of tearing fabric as he ripped her top, exposing her breasts. “I want you to visualize this, _every. single. time_ you try and forget that you’re _mine_ ,” he continued, pushing up her skirt and tearing off her underwear.  
  
Evelyn screamed in pain as Lucius’ hands tightly gripped her thighs, forcing them apart. “Help me! Help!” she shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut, as she struggled against Lucius’ vice-like grip.  
  
_Smack_. “None of that, Evelyn. You deserve this. Go ahead and open those baby blue’s, Evie. I want you to see _every second of this_. Open your eyes or I’ll kill you, right now,” Lucius ordered, jabbing his wand squarely between Evelyn’s breasts.  
  
“Don’t kill me,” she muttered, kicking her legs helplessly against the empty space beneath her. _Oh dear Merlin, please help me. Please. Stop him. Let Sirius come home. Anyone. Please don’t let him do this_.  
  
“Very well, then,” Lucius smirked, tossing his wand aside. “Be a good girl and hold still,” he whispered, laughing manically as he gripped her thighs harder, forcing himself inside.  
  
Evelyn shrieked, pain radiating in waves throughout her body. “Help me. Someone _please_ help me!”

* * *

Sirius arrived home to find the front door ajar. _What’s going on? Evelyn wouldn’t be so careless_. “Evelyn?” he called out, locking the door behind him.  
  
He strode through the sitting room, freezing at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. The smell of firewhiskey filled the room, the amber liquid pooled on the floor beside shards of broken crystal. “Evelyn? Sweetheart?” he called out, his heart beating dangerously fast in his chest. Something wasn’t right here. He paced the room, noticing Evelyn’s wand lying underneath the coffee table. _Why would it be there? What is going on?_ Gingerly, he picked up the wand, putting it in his pocket. He felt his heart drop as he caught sight of blood, smeared across the couch. “EVELYN!” Sirius shouted, his hands shaking as he took a step forward, to examine the blood. _Fresh. It hasn’t dried, yet._  
  
Sirius stood still for a moment, straining his ears, hoping to hear anything, _anything_ that could assure him that Evelyn was alright. At last, he heard faint sobbing, coming from the second floor. Quickly, Sirius sprinted up the stairwell, slamming their bedroom door open. “Evelyn.”  
  
Evelyn glanced up at him from the floor with red-rimmed eyes, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. “Sirius,” she mumbled, her words barely audible.  
  
Sirius stood frozen in place as he observed her, taking in her disheveled appearance. Her dress was torn, exposing her chest. Her wrists were ringed with mottled blue bruising, as was her neck. He glanced down at the skirt of her dress, where blood stains were forming around her groin. She stared at him, blue eyes wide, her lower lip quivering.  
  
“What happened?” he asked, feeling a sharp pain in his chest.  
  
“He... He...”  
  
“Who. What happened, Evie? Who did this to you?”  
  
Evelyn’s face crumbled as a fresh wave of tears rushed forward. “L... Lucius,” she gasped, avoiding Sirius’ gaze as she uttered the name.  
  
Sirius gripped his fists tightly, seeing red as he began to piece together what had obviously transpired during his absence. “What did he do to you, Evelyn?” he asked, through gritted teeth.  
  
Evelyn shook her head. “I can’t... I can’t...” she mumbled, wiping away tears and snot with the back of her hand.   
  
Sirius dropped to his knees at her side, pulling her into an embrace. “Please tell me what happened, Evie. Tell me so I can fix this. Please. I want to help you. I love you.”  
  
A quiet sob escaped her lips as she pressed her face against Sirius’ shoulder, wetting his cloak with her tears. “He... He took my wand. I tried to fight him off, but he overpowered me... he... he forced himself on me...”  
  
Sirius squeezed her harder, tears beginning to trickle down his own cheeks. “Did he...”  
  
Evelyn nodded, lifting her head to face him. “He was... quite forceful,” she choked, nodding down at her blood-soaked dress. “I think I’m still bleeding.. I... I should have healed it but I just... I just wanted my hands to stop shaking,” she stammered, choking back another sob.   
  
“Shhhh,” Sirius whispered, gently stroking her back. “Shhh.. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here, Evie. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” he assured her, gently pressing his lips to hers.   
  
“He just came in, Siri... I didn’t even know who was there, I was getting ready to leave for a board meeting and the next thing I knew, he had his hand around my neck... I’m so sorry.. I... I should have been more careful.. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Evelyn, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. _He’s_ the one who hurt you. _He’s_ the sick bastard who laid his hands on you. I swear on my brother’s grave, Evelyn, he’ll pay for this. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise,” Sirius retorted, his steely gray eyes blazing with anger.   
  
Evelyn’s voice cracked as she broke into a fresh set of tears, allowing Sirius to envelop her closer still with his embrace as she cried. Sirius held her tightly, until at last her tears ceased. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” he asked lightly, gently stroking her hair.  
  
“Okay,” she said softly, blinking back moisture in her eyes as she gazed up at him.  
  
Carefully, he lifted her from the floor, setting her down on the edge of the bed. “Is it okay if I take your dress off? To see what needs to be healed?” he asked, gently entwining his fingers with hers, giving her hand a light squeeze.  
  
Evelyn nodded, pressing her lips tightly together. “Burn the dress, please. I never want to see it, again,” she begged.  
  
Sirius nodded, taking care as he unzipped the dress, pulling it off of her lithe frame.  
  
“Burn it _now_. Please?” she pressed, shooting him a pleading look.  
  
Sirius nodded, procuring his wand from his pocket. “Incendio,” he muttered, setting the garment ablaze.  
  
He smiled as he caught sight of a look of relief on Evelyn’s face. “Alright. Now let’s see what I can do to fix you up,” he noted, turning his attention to her naked form.  
  
He paused, feeling a sharp pain in his chest as he caught sight of the blood seeping from between her legs. Evelyn winced, reaching out to lightly touch his hand. “I... He was really rough,” she offered, her lower lip again beginning to quiver. “I think he tore... something...” she trailed off, glancing away, as she blinked back tears. Sirius nodded, reaching for her hand and squeezing it tightly. “Do you hurt badly?” he asked, wiping the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
Sirius took a deep breath, squeezing her hand harder still. “I’m going to brew you something for the pain, okay? Do you want me to heal that first or do you want the potion first?”  
  
“Is it... will it hurt to heal it?” she asked.  
  
Sirius gnawed his lower lip, his mind racing as he thought of the best course of action in healing her injuries. “It... it might be better if you have a pain potion, first,” he said finally.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Don’t.. please don’t leave me alone... I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.   
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “How about I apply some salve to the bruises, first? That should help some. Then I’ll gather my potions kit from the study and brew it up here, okay?”   
  
Evelyn nodded. “Salve is in the bathroom, I believe.”  
  
Sirius retrieved the salve, carefully applying it to her skin. “Ow,” she winced, flinching as he applied the thick salve to her neck.   
  
“I’m sorry, love,” he apologized, gently stroking her hair with his free hand. “I’m so sorry, my Evie.”  
  
“Don’t leave me alone, Siri. Please.”  
  
“I’m not. I promise. I won’t leave your side, if that’s what you need. I’d do anything for you, Evie.”

* * *

Evelyn approached the Potter house, pausing a moment at the doorstep before tentatively knocking on the front door. She glanced around nervously, fingers mindlessly twirling the ends of her long blonde hair, as she debated nixing this entire idea and bolting. _What am I even doing here? I’ve barely spoken a word to any of these people. And the way Sirius was forced to end things with them... but still, they’re his friends. They must be good people... And I can’t sit in that house alone for another second and..._  
  
“Can I help you?” a pleasant voice asked, as the door swung open.  
  
Evelyn paused a moment, taken aback by the woman standing before her. The last time she had seen Lily Potter, she hadn’t been _pregnant_ , had she?  
  
“Evelyn, are you okay?” Lily asked, a concerned look etched upon her face.  
  
“Could... Could I come in, please?” Evelyn asked, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.  
  
“Of course, come in. Would you like a cup of tea?” Lily asked, motioning for Evelyn to follow her inside.  
  
Evelyn nodded, her lips firmly pressed together as she choked back a sob.   
  
“Lils, who was at the door?” James asked, peering at the two women from the staircase. He froze, shooting a quizzical look in Evelyn’s direction. “Evelyn... What are you doing here?”  
  
Evelyn clasped a hand over her mouth as her tears sprang forward, unable to hold back the sorrow which threatened to consume her. “I’m sorry.. I’ll leave... If you want,” she gasped in between breaths, her hand still covering her mouth. “I shouldn’t have come... I just...”  
  
“James,” Lily hissed, taking a step forward and placing a comforting hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “It’s alright. It’s okay. Please, stay. You’re alright.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, sniffling as Lily steered her towards the couch, motioning for her to sit down. “James, tea please?” she noted, shooting her husband a pointed look.   
  
James nodded, quickly descending the stairs and making towards the kitchen.  
  
“Is everything alright, Evelyn? What’s the matter? Did something happen to Sirius?”  
  
Evelyn shook her head no, struggling to regain her composure. “No, no he’s fine,” she said finally, as James emerged from the kitchen, tray of tea in hand.  
  
“What’s wrong, then?” Lily pressed, carefully removing a delicate china cup from the tray and handing it to Evelyn.  
  
Evelyn’s hands shook as she brought the cup to her lips, taking a prim sip. “I just... I can’t be alone in my house and there was no where else to go so I... So I came here,” she started, noisily clinking china against china as she returned the teacup to its saucer.  
  
“Did something happen that makes you afraid to be there alone?” Lily asked.  
  
Evelyn nodded, her lower lip quivering as tears threatened to flow once more.  
  
“Lucius... He... He...”  
  
“James, if you could give us a moment?” Lily asked, taking note of Evelyn’s hesitance to speak further on the subject.   
  
James nodded, excusing himself from the room.  
  
“What did he do?” Lily asked, placing a comforting hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.  
  
“He raped me. He broke into the house and forced himself on me... He took my wand so I couldn’t fight back... Sirius wasn’t home and he...” Evelyn trailed off, her face crumbling as tears trickled down her pale cheeks.   
  
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered, the color draining from her face. “Are you... does Sirius know?”  
  
Evelyn nodded. “He... he came home and found me... I was in a right state. He’s good with healing charms and potions, thank Merlin.. He healed me up pretty good. And he stayed home with me for a few days, but... He had to go back and resume his usual activities... we can’t let anyone know that something happened or...” she trailed off, staring miserably down at her hands, which rested limply in her lap.  
  
“We can’t win, you know? We’re... we’re caught between a rock and a hard place, you know? Either one of them could kill us, at any moment, should we be found out and I just...”  
  
“What do you mean? Who could kill you?” Lily asked.  
  
“Dumbledore. Voldemort. It doesn’t even matter. Either one. Both. No matter what way you look at it, we’re traitors. Dumbledore forced Sirius to become a spy and if he were to find out Sirius got himself lured into all of Voldemort’s ideologies, he’d kill him. And if Voldemort knew Sirius was a spy for the Order, _he’d_ kill him. It’s only a matter of time until one of them figures it out and decides we’re a liability to the _cause_ ,” Evelyn noted bitterly, hands shaking as she reached for her cup of tea. She paused, a panicked expression etched on her face as it dawned on her what she’d just said.  
  
“You can’t.... You can’t tell _anyone_ that, please. They’ll kill him. Please, promise me you won’t tell,” she begged, her eyes pooling with moisture once more.  
  
“I won’t tell, I promise... So... He’s been spying for Dumbledore this entire time?” Lily asked, eyeing Evelyn incredulously. “Is that why he’s been avoiding his friends?”  
  
Evelyn nodded. “He didn’t want to... Dumbledore insisted that it would be a risk to the cause if there were any ties to his old life as he attempted to infiltrate the Death Eaters,” she said lowly.  
  
“So he didn’t _really_ switch sides?” James asked, emerging from the kitchen.  
  
Evelyn shook her head, reaching for her cup of tea. “He misses you, James. He’s... He _was_ bad, for a while. Voldemort sucked him in. But.. he’s snapped out of it some. He knows who the _real_ enemy is, once more.”  
  
James nodded, taking a seat opposite the two women. “How is he?” he asked.  
  
“He’s in a lot of pain. It was hard for him, losing Reg... and feeling like he’s lost you, too. I wanted so badly to tell him that we should say ‘fuck it all’ and come see you, but... we’re avoiding Dumbledore at the moment... I... Well, _he_ can’t really risk it coming up on Dumbledore’s radar that he’s been communicating with you and the others... Because it could jeopardize the mission,” she explained, pausing to take dainty sips of tea.  
  
“Why is he avoiding Dumbledore?” Lily queried.  
  
Evelyn sighed, biting her lip. “Dumbledore was worried that Sirius was being brainwashed by Voldemort... I had to lie. He would kill Sirius if he thought he was a liability... he’s my husband... I love him... I’d do anything to protect him,” she concluded, staring miserably down into her tea. “Though at this point, it’s only a matter of time before one side or the other catches on and finishes us.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” James asked, adjusting his glasses.  
  
“Lucius raped me. Sirius... Sirius is enraged. He’s always hated Lucius and this... it’s only a matter of time before he loses his temper... You of all people should know how he is, James.”  
  
James’ face paled, nodding his head. “I’m so sorry... Are you... Are you okay? Is there anything we can do?” he asked, glancing from Evelyn to Lily.  
  
Evelyn shook her head. “I’m just.. I couldn’t take having all of that inside me, anymore. Too many secrets to keep. I had to tell someone. I’m sorry for just showing up on your doorstep like I did I just... You’re Sirius’ friends. I.. I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I figured you must be good people... Because Sirius is a good man. A wonderful man. And... I just...” she broke off, tilting her head down as tears began to fall, staining the skirt of her dress.   
  
“Of course. Sirius is... He’s my best mate. My brother. You’re always welcome here. Both of you. Anything we can do to help, just ask,” James said firmly, rising to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.   
  
“I’m glad that Sirius has you. Despite everything, I always felt better about how things turned out knowing that he had a woman who loved him by his side.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, offering him a weak smile. “So.. You’re expecting a little one?” she asked, changing the subject.  
  
James and Lily’s faces lit up, smiling broadly. “Yes... She’s due in July,” James affirmed, grabbing his wife’s hand and squeezing it.   
  
“That’s wonderful,” Evelyn replied, wiping tears from her eyes as she watched the couple exchange loving looks. “You’re so lucky.”  
  
She paused, biting her lip as she thought. “You... Promise you won’t tell anyone what I told you. Please. Not even Sirius... He’ll... He’ll tell you when he feels ready to.”  
  
James and Lily nodded. “Of course.”


	23. Chapter 23

“Are you sure this is a good idea, showing up here?” Remus asked, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.  
  
“Of course,” James retorted, offering Remus a forced smile.  
  
The pair continued on down Sirius’ street for a moment, choosing to walk in awkward silence rather than voice their internal doubts that Sirius might be less than pleased to see them at his doorstep.  
  
_“We have to go and check on him, Rem,” James had insisted that morning, over his third cup of tea. “Evelyn showed up here a blood wreck... He’s our best mate. His wife was raped by her former lover. You know he’s a ticking time bomb... Someone has to check on him.”_  
  
Remus had reluctantly agreed to come along, knowing full-well that once James’ mind was set on something, arguing was futile.  
  
The pair stood a moment at Sirius’ doorstep, staring hesitantly at the door. “Why didn’t we floo to see if anyone is even home?” Remus asked, his lips barely moving as he uttered the words.  
  
“I tried... They’ve shut off their floo connection.”  
  
Remus nodded, his lips forming a grim line. _I wonder why_. Taking a deep breath for courage, he strode purposefully towards the door, knocking twice against the heavy oak wood.  
  
The pair stood silently, glancing at one another as they heard light footsteps behind the door, then the creaking of a doorknob being turned slowly. To Remus’ shock, he caught sight of a flash of blonde hair, followed by a wand, held by long manicured fingers, pointed directly at his chest. “Who are you and what is your business here?” an icy female voice asked, the knuckles of the hand clutching the wand turning white as she gripped the wand harder, still.  
  
“James Potter and Remus Lupin. Friends of Sirius Black. We’re here to pay him a visit,” James replied, placing a comforting hand on Remus’ shoulder.  
  
“On what date is the next full?”   
  
“The twenty-eighth,” Remus replied immediately.  
  
The pair breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung open, Evelyn eyeing the two warily, wand still drawn. “He’s not home,” she said quietly, looking to James for assurance that everything was alright.  
  
“Where is he?” James asked.  
  
“Come in, have some tea, won’t you?” Evelyn mumbled, motioning for the two to follow her inside. 

* * *

_Crack_. With a wave of his wand, Sirius broke the lock to the front door of Malfoy Manor, taking no care with his motions. With the flourish of his arm, he sent the door flying open, gaining entrance. Anger pulsing through his veins, he silently uttered curses, sending paintings, vases, anything in sight, flying through the air, crashing against the walls and shattering into a million pieces. He caught sight of a house elf, hurrying up the the stairwell, calling out for Mistress Narcissa. _Avada Kedavra_. Sirius smirked in satisfaction as he saw life drain from the elf’s body, kicking it out of his way as he stormed up the stairwell.   
  
“Lucius,” he called out, setting the lamps lining the dark hallways of the upstairs bursting into flames. “LUCIUS MALFOY!”  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks, his nostrils flaring in anger as he caught sight of shimmery blond hair in the faint moonlight pouring in from the windows. Without thinking, he pointed at the figure, screaming, “CRUCIO!”  
  
He laughed, stalking closer towards the figure as he heard them cry out in pain, the flames from the wallpaper flickering in his eyes as he cried out in satisfaction, waving his wand carelessly, watching as the figure was tossed to and fro in the air, his lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk as he saw crimson spray across the wood floor.   
  
“Black,” a familiar deep voice bellowed out, apparating from out of nowhere. Sirius paused, only acutely aware that the figure he’d been attacking was _not_ Lucius. Still, he shrugged, indifferent. _Merlin knows Cissy was hardly an innocent in any of his wrongdoings._  
  
Sirius directed his wand at Lucius, mustering all of his rage as he cried out _Crucio_ , once more. He laughed manically, watching Lucius scream out in pain, the sheer force of Sirius’ curse sending him flying across the corridor, landing with a dull thud onto the ground, a sickening _crack_ filling the room as his skull hit stone. “My wife, my Cissy... what have you done...” Lucius cried out, struggling to force his words out as he writhed in pain, Sirius’ eyes never leaving Lucius’ body as he kept his wand pointed directly at his chest.  
  
“What about _my_ wife, you bastard? What about _MY WIFE_ , who you _RAPED_?” Sirius shouted, waving his arm violently and smirking as he heard Lucius land with a loud _crash_ against the ground, a wave of crimson flooding from his body. Sirius glanced over at Narcissa, who was lying unconscious in a pool of her blood. _Or perhaps hers and his blood. How fitting for the occasion._  
  
"Blood for blood, Lucius!” Sirius cried out, laughing manically. “You spilled my wife’s blood, so I spilled yours. You had to know this was coming, didn’t you?” he taunted, swiftly striding towards the blond.   
  
He stood above him, watching, amused, as he struggled to remain conscious, writing in pain from Sirius’ curse. “You’re lucky, really,” Sirius whispered, his lips curled upward into a cruel smile. “You’re lucky that incest is too filthy for me, despite my lineage. Because otherwise, I would have raped your wife. I would have left her a beaten mess, sprawled out on your lovely sitting room floor, torn open and bleeding. Like you left my Evelyn. Consider yourself lucky.”  
  
“She’s-”  
  
“No, consider yourself lucky that I didn't kill _you_. Or her,” he snapped, stomping his heavy boot down on Lucius’ chest, grinning as he heard the faint sound of ribs snapping.  
  
“You’re pathetic. I warned you once, _Malfoy_. You will _never_ hurt my wife, _ever again_. If you so much as breathe the same air as her, I will _kill_ you. That’s a promise.”  
  
He looked down, disgusted. “You sicken me,” he spat, smirking as his spittle dripped down Lucius’ cheek, pooling down into his half-parted lips.   
  
He strode towards Narcissa, smugly looking down at her curled up frame. “It’s _painful_ , isn’t it?” he taunted, turning his attention back towards Malfoy. “Seeing the woman you love, lying bloody on the floor?”  
  
He paced around the lifeless body, suddenly recognizing the swell of her stomach. “She’s with child,” he stated, a hint of surprise in his voice.  
  
“Yes! You... she’s... don’t,” Malfoy gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he struggled to turn his head to look in Sirius’ direction.  
  
“Oh... so you _do_ have a soft spot for my cousin, do you?” Sirius taunted, offering Lucius a cruel grin. “And here I thought you only married her for the Black family money.”  
  
He paused, his lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Or is it just your unborn heir that’s of any concern to you?”  
  
Lucius remained silent, trying and failing to pull himself up from the ground.  
  
“Crucio!” Sirius cried out, wand pointed at Lucius.  
  
He smirked as his head fell with a crack to the floor, crying out in pain.   
  
“You laid your hands on my wife, _Malfoy_. You raped my _wife_. To spite me, I presume,” he continued, circling Narcissa’s body once more.  
  
“You have caused my wife _immeasurable_ pain. What do you think? How should I settle the score? The price of a woman being raped by her former lover for the life of an unborn child? Seems _fair_ , don’t you think, _Lucius_?” Sirius growled, bearing sharp canine teeth as he shot the blond a look of utter hatred.  
  
“ _Don’t... Please.._.”  
  
Sirius smirked, turning on his heel and kicking Narcissa directly in the stomach. “I hope she miscarries,” he snarled, flicking his wand a final time in Lucius’ direction before disapparating.

* * *

“How have you been?” James asked, observing Evelyn from across the coffee table as the trio sat in sitting room, sipping tea.  
  
“F-fine,” Evelyn stammered, shakily bringing her cup to her lips.  
  
As she had prepared the tea service, James and Remus had taken care to look away as Evelyn poured her tea cup half-full of gin before settling down onto the love seat across from the two men.  
  
“And Sirius?” Remus asked.  
  
“He’s angry,” Evelyn admitted, her long, dark eyelashes a sharp contrast against her pale skin as she gazed down into her cup, pressing her lips together.  
  
“What time did you say he left?” James asked.  
  
“I didn’t,” she retorted sharply, shooting daggers at him. “He comes and goes... He’s... He’s very busy.”  
  
“You know how Sirius is... Do you think he’s in danger... that he might do something rash and stupid-”  
  
“It’s Sirius we’re talking about, Rem, of course he’s going to do something stupid,” James hissed, jabbing Remus in the ribs with his elbow.  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know!” Evelyn shrieked, angrily slamming her china cup down onto it’s little saucer.  
  
“Evelyn,” James said calmly, rising to his feet and joining her at her side. “I’m sorry... I know you’ve been through a lot.. We just want-”  
  
“I know, I know, you just want to _help_ ,” Evelyn snapped, squeezing her eyes shut.   
  
“Evelyn,” James said softly, resting a hand over hers. “Do you want me to alert... _anyone_... to keep an eye out for him?” he asked, shooting her a knowing look.   
  
“No,” she said softly, shaking her head furiously. “No, no. I’m sure.. I’m sure he’ll be home. It’s not necessary,” she assured him, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “It’s... It’s fine.”  
  
“Do you have _any_ idea where he might be?” Remus asked suddenly, crossing one leg over the other as he sipped his tea.  
  
“If I knew I wouldn’t be sitting here,” she murmured, biting nervously on her lower lip.  
  
James and Remus exchanged looks, before settling their focus on Evelyn.  
  
“It’s not... I can’t just go out looking for him. It’s too dangerous. It’s not _proper_. Even though our relationship is not so _traditional_ , it’s obscene for a proper pure-blooded wife to go wandering out in the night in search of her husband. People would _talk_ ,” she started, shooting James a pointed look. “All I can do is sit here and wait for him to come home. Hope that he has half as much sense as he is pretty and that he doesn’t do something reckless and get himself killed.”  
  
“People are _watching_ us. I- _we_ have to be very aware of our actions. Every move is observed, and scrutinized. I don’t think I need to stress how dire the situation is, James.”  
  
James nodded curtly. “Of course... calm down, Evie. I’m sorry. We don’t mean to press... It’s just... we haven't seen him in months and... after what happened to you with Lucius, we can’t help but worry...”  
  
“Lucius?” Remus asked, glancing from James to Evelyn. “You... you didn’t say it was Lucius who...” he trailed off, swallowing as Evelyn’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, reaching out and placing a clammy hand over Evelyn’s shaking one. “I can’t imagine... I’m so sorry, Evelyn.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, choking back a sob.  
  
“He must be enraged,” Remus noted, addressing James.  
  
“Positively brimming with rage, I imagine,” James agreed.   
  
James glanced at his timepiece, checking the time. “It’s later than I thought,” he noted, frowning.   
  
“It could wait..” Remus offered, as James shook his head.  
  
“No... Du- we have to carry on. Will you be alright alone, Evelyn? We could stay until Sirius returns if you’d like,” James offered, directing his statements towards Evelyn.  
  
She shook her head no, reaching for her teacup. “No... It’s fine... You have things to do.. I’m sure he’ll be home, soon.”  
  
“Will you tell him we stopped by?” Remus asked.  
  
Evelyn nodded. “Of course.”  
  
“Take care of yourself, Evie. If you need anything, Lils is home,” James whispered, pulling Evelyn into an embrace.  
  
“Thanks,” Evelyn whispered back, returning James’ hug.  
  
“Very nice to meet you formally, Remus,” she started, offering Remus her hand.  
  
“Likewise,” Remus replied, gently kissing the top of her hand. “Sirius is a lucky man.”  
  
Evelyn smiled warmly, her first genuine smile that evening.

* * *

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Severus,” Lucius muttered, pacing back and forth before the fireplace.  
  
“Of course,” Snape replied evenly, frowning as he added a vial of liquid to the cauldron set before him.   
  
“She’ll be okay, won’t she?” Lucius asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“She should be fine. I stopped the bleeding. She’s sleeping comfortably, for now. The potion I brewed fist and gave her stabilized the baby, as you requested,” Snape retorted.   
  
“And what is that?” Lucius asked, nodding towards the cauldron.  
  
“To help her body heal. I only did enough to stabilize her and your child and to allow her to comfortably rest. It’s better if she remembers as little of this, as possible,” Snape continued, brows furrowed as he stirred the potion.  
  
“Can you believe the _arrogance_ , that he threatened to take the life of my child? That he strode into _my_ home, and attacked _my_ wife. I should have killed him.”  
  
Snape remained silent, focusing his attention on adding the correct amount of asphodel root. He opened his mouth to point out that when he’d arrived, he’d had to help Lucius up from the puddle of his own blood he laid sprawled out in, but thought better of it and bit his tongue. _No point adding fuel to the fire. He’s already enraged._  
  
Snape continued adding ingredients to the potion, blocking out the sound of Lucius’ voice as he continued to rant, his voice getting louder with each remark uttered. _Don’t respond. He’s spewing nonsense, anyway._  
  
“Are you listening to me?” Lucius snapped, banging on the fireplace mantle to garner Snape’s attention.  
  
“Yes,” Snape replied sourly, grimacing. “My apologies if I’m a bit _distracted_ , brewing he necessary potions required to fully heal your _wife_.”  
  
“I swear, _Black_ will pay for this. She could have lost the baby, Severus,” Lucius snapped, slamming his fist against the mantle of the fireplace.  
  
Snape took a deep breath, setting to chopping up roots. “I _told_ you, Lucius,” he muttered. “I told you he would retaliate.”  
  
“He nearly killed my _pregnant_ wife!”  
  
“And you violently raped _his_ wife,” Snape retorted, placing the knife down on the desk. “I warned you Lucius. You attacked his wife. You _knew_ Sirius would stop at nothing to exact revenge for what you did.”  
  
“She was _mine_ first, and it’s hardly the same thing-”  
  
“Lucius, you have to stop. One of you is bound to end up dead.”  
  
Lucius paused, his eyes twinkling with fury as his lips curled into a sinister smile. “Or _she’ll_ end up dead.”  
  
“Lucius, you aren’t suggesting-”  
  
“Oh, but I am, Sev. He’s proven that his only weakness is her. What better way to exact revenge for his savagery than have is wife’s life taken. By his own hands, at that. It’s perfect. You’re brilliant, Sev,” Lucius continued, grinning madly as paced about the room.  
  
Snape watched the blond, taken aback by his bold statement. “Lucius... There... There is a thing as going too far. Even you must have limits of what you are willing to do to... To get revenge,” he started, pleadingly.  
  
He approached the blond, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What you’re suggesting... Is killing for the sake of killing. Pointless bloodshed. She’s a pure-blooded witch. Brilliant. The wife of the heir to the House of Black. You’re going too far.”  
  
Lucius shrugged his shoulder, staring coldly into Snape’s eyes. “When it comes to _Black_ , nothing is going too far.”

* * *

Evelyn stared dejectedly at the clock as it struck eleven in the evening. _Some life. Battered. Husband’s off doing Merlin knows what. It’s only a matter of time until his anger gets the best of him and he snaps.. Oh damn it, Evelyn don’t think that, he’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine... He’s busy. He’s always out this late. He’s not out getting pissed or killing innocent strangers or seeking revenge on your former lover... He’s better now. Better now, better now... Who am I even kidding?_  
  
Woozily, she rose to her feet, unsteady from the countless glasses of gin she’d consumed over the course of that evening. With trembling hands, she poured herself another glass, muttering a barely audible _shit_ as she spilled the clear liquid onto the floor. She brought her filled glass to her lips, fingers grasped tightly around the cut-crystal tumbler as she hungrily poured the liquor down her throat, savoring the burn as it snaked down her throat. _Please don’t kill him, Sirius. I know it’s only a matter of time until you get your hands on him but please don't spill any more blood, we don’t need any other bodies stacked against us in this awful war._  
  
She retreated to the couch, slipping her feet under her as she stared down into her glass, watching as the liquid swirled around from her unsteady hands. _Another night alone. Another night spent worrying and praying that my husband comes home alive. Alive and well. Oh Merlin, Evie, don't think that way, he’s fine, he’s fine..._  
  
Evelyn glanced up, gripping her glass of gin tightly as she heard the front door rattle open. “Who’s there?” she called out, instinctively reaching for her wand.  
  
“Sirius!” she cried out, catching sight of him entering the room, blood smeared across his cheeks and dripping from his robes. “What happened? Are you hurt?” she asked, unnerved by the calm, detached expression on his face. “Sirius?” she asked, warily approaching him, placing a shaking hand against his porcelain skin.  
  
She paused, uttering a small gasp as she caught sight of the rage flickering in his eyes. She stared numbly, listening as his breathing hitched, as if he were coming down from an adrenaline high. “What happened?” she repeated, fingernails digging deeply into her palms as she forced herself to sound calmer than she felt.  
  
“I’m fine,” he assured her, wiping the blood from his right cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m fine.”  
  
Evelyn nodded, still not convinced. “The blood,” she started, nodding towards the pool of blood that was beginning to form at his feet.   
  
“I took care of it, Evelyn,” he said softly, his lips curled upward into a smile. “I took care of it and everything is going to be okay.”  
  
“But what happened?” she continued, unable to drag her gaze from the dripping blood. _Oh, Merlin, Sirius... What did you do? Are you okay? Tell me, tell me, tell me..._  
  
She sighed contently as Sirius pulled her into an embrace, a calmness rushing over her as she breathed in his familiar scent. “He’ll never hurt you again, my Evie. I promise. I promise. Never again,” he repeated, holding her tighter still.   
  
Evelyn squeezed back, her arms draped around his neck. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck.   
  
“I love you,” she repeated, nuzzling against his shoulder. “What did you do?” she asked, eyeing him nervously as they parted.  
  
“I took care of things. Like I said I would,” Sirius replied, still grinning.  
  
“But _what_ did you do?” she pressed, again chewing on her lip. “You didn’t... did you?”  
  
Sirius shook his head. “No... No. I got my point across, though. I can assure you of that.”  
  
“You’re not.. He didn’t... You’re not bleeding, are you?” she queried, eyeing him nervously as blood continued to trickle from the hems of his robes.  
  
Sirius shook his head. “No... No, I’m not,” he assured her. “Then why...”  
  
“Blood for blood. You suffered at his hand, so I returned the favor,” Sirius retorted, shocking Evelyn with his icy demeanor.  
  
“And you’re sure he’ll never-”  
  
“You don’t ever have to worry about _him_ , ever again. I promise you.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned, this is a dark chapter.

Sirius stood between Avery and Nott, arms casually folded against his chest as Voldemort prattled on about their impending alliance with the giants. Carefully, he glanced across the room, locking eyes with Lucius Malfoy. He shot the blond a withering look, all while maintaining his cool exterior. With casual elegance, he leaned against the wall behind him, slipping his hands in his pockets. _I wish I could smoke a cigarette_. He smirked as Malfoy made a rude gesture in his direction. _He never was one for subtlety_.  
  
“Is there something you wished to discuss, Lucius?” Voldemort asked, turning his head to address the blond.  
  
Lucius stepped forward, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a small smile. “Why actually, there is, my lord.”  
  
“Speak,” Voldemort commanded, motioning for Lucius to begin.  
  
“While we have been preoccupied with allocating most of our manpower to forging alliances with other dark creatures, Mulciber and I have taken it upon ourselves to capture several blood-traitors and possible Order members, who were found attempting to intervene with our efforts to control _certain_ muggle populations,” Malfoy continued, his grin growing wider as he continued.  
  
“How many?” Voldemort asked, his interest piqued.   
  
“Seven.”  
  
“What did you do with them?” Voldemort asked, pacing the room, his robes sweeping behind him as he carefully observed the blond.  
  
“We’ve secured them within the walls of my manor... for now,” he elaborated, sinister.   
  
Voldemort nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. “Very good. Very good. I am impressed. What do you suggest we do with these traitors?”  
  
“Make an example of them, obviously,” he smirked. “I suggest we kill them.”  
  
Voldemort paused, stroking his chin. “Hmmm... Yes... Sirius... Perhaps you should take the lead on this... I’m sure you are more than capable of devising a... Creative means of making an example of the blood-traitor scum,” he retorted, nodding in Sirius’ direction.  
  
“Of course, my lord,” Sirius agreed, smirking. “It would be an _honor_.”  
  
As he stepped forward, making to join Voldemort in the center of the circle, he shot Lucius a vindicated look, relishing in the disappointment etched on his face. _Once again, another opportunity to prove myself superior to you in every way. Bastard._  
  
“Sirius,” Voldemort continued, addressing him. “What actions do you suggest we take?”  
  
Sirius paused, considering. “It would be best to make a public spectacle of it, I would think,” he started, biting his lip in thought.  
  
“London, I think. It’ll be sure to garner media attention if we kill them out in the open, leaving their remains to be dealt with.”  
  
Voldemort nodded, a cruel smile etched on his lips. Sirius glanced about the room of Death Eaters, feeling a surge of confidence as the others nodded in approval at his suggestion. He coughed, clearing his throat. “I think that this calls for something a bit more _drawn out_ than our usual methods,” he noted, smiling wickedly. “We want to _really_ make an example of this lot.”  
  
Sirius paused a moment, letting the crowd chime in. “I think that simply _killing_ them isn’t enough to _really_ send a message. We need something that will _shock_ the public. Something that will remind the Order and the blood-traitors the power they are fighting.”  
  
“Do you have any suggestions?” Voldemort queried.  
  
Sirius nodded, his eyes lighting up as a thought came to mind. “I do,” he replied agreeably, smiling broader still. “I thin it may be _just_ what we’re looking for.”  
  
The others watched him eagerly, loudly begging him to continue.  
  
“Fiendfyre. I say we burn them alive with fiendfyre.”  
  
Sirius smirked, victorious, as the crowd roared in approval.  
  
“Excellent. So it’s settled,” Voldemort drawled, commanding the attention of the room. “This evening, at dusk.”  
  
He paused, observing Sirius for a moment. “Lucius, Yaxley, and Mulciber will transport the traitors to London,” he said lowly, his beady eyes boring holes into Sirius’. “And perhaps you will do the honor of setting them aflame. Being as it _was_ your suggestion.”  
  
“Of course, my lord. It would be my honor.”

* * *

Sirius glanced around the crowd of Death Eaters surrounding him, growing impatient. At dusk, he had arrived at Hyde Park, lingering nearby the Grand Entrance, as planned. Sirius smirked, observing his surroundings. It had been his suggestion that they set the bodies aflame in front of the Grand Entrance; he imagined the elegant marble structure would serve as an excellent backdrop for the terror that was about to ensue. He gazed at the white marble columns and archways, visualizing what they would look like, against the flickering red-orange flames of fiendfyre.   
  
“Where are they, anyway?” he snapped impatiently, turning to Nott.   
  
“Running late, I suppose. I told the Dark Lord he should have sent _me_ to assist,” Nott retorted, his lips curling into a frown.   
  
Sirius glanced at his timepiece, frowning. _Nearly seven, now. At this rate, we won’t be finished this until Merlin knows when_. He made a mental note to stop into Harry Winston the next morning, to pick up an apology gift for Evelyn. _I’m sure she’ll be cross with me for canceling our dinner plans, once again_. At last, he caught sight of Snape, who had just apparated to the park.  
  
“Well,” Sirius stated loudly, stamping his foot impatiently.  
  
As if on cue, Malfoy, Yaxley, and Mulciber apparated, alongside the seven _traitors_.  
  
“Finally,” Sirius yawned, folding his arms against his chest. He froze, feeling a chillingly cold hand rest on his shoulder.  
  
“Are you ready, Sirius?” Voldemort hissed, his red eyes flickering with dangerous excitement.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius affirmed, summoning all the enthusiasm he could muster. He glanced at Malfoy, watching as he struggled to bind the seven traitors’ wrists together.  
  
“You would think he’d have handled that _before_ arriving,” Sirius noted, laughing cruelly.  
  
“Lucius has never had much of an eye for detail,” Voldemort noted, his eyes flickering with apparent disgust as he observed the blond. “A stupid boy, really. Eager to please, but not much to offer in means of talent.”  
  
“A pity,” Sirius scoffed, scowling. _If I had my way, I’d be setting you ablaze, Malfoy. In fact, I might just do that..._  
  
“Sirius,” Voldemort said lowly, drawing his attention. “It is time.”  
  
Sirius nodded, striding forward, towards the seven bodies, which lay carelessly sprawled out. Wand drawn out, he kept his head held high, barely acknowledging the squirming forms, themselves. He turned to face the Death Eaters, who watched him with baited breath. “My brothers,” he started, forcing his lips to form a cruel smile, “ we are here to make an _example_ of this _filth_...those who dared attempt to thwart the Dark Lord’s rise to power.”  
  
He paused, waiting for the applause to cease. Muggles wandered by, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding before them, thanks to a carefully placed confundus charm on the surrounding area. _Which will be removed at just the right time, for maximum effect_. He took a deep breath, turning to face the bodies once more. “Let this serve as a message to all those that dare fight against our master, Lord Voldemort... The blood-traitors who besmirch their good family names in defense of worthless mud-bloods and muggles... If you dare cross us, you shall _burn_ with them!”   
  
Gracefully, he waved his wand, engulfing the seven bodies in flames. Sirius stepped back, joining his fellow Death Eaters, mesmerized by the ferocious flames. He laughed coldly as he heard shrieking emanating from the flames. To his right, Voldemort watched on, laughing manically, apparently greatly pleased by Sirius’ performance. As a precaution, Sirius had set a shield around the bodies, to ensure that the flames would not spread and would burn out, once they had served their purpose. He felt a rush of adrenaline, watching as Lucius muttered furiously to Snivellus, jerking his head in Sirius’ direction. Sirius smiled, pleased to have once again bested Lucius’ efforts in gaining the Dark Lord’s favor. _Good. I’m glad he’s furious. Git._  
  
“Well done, Sirius,” Voldemort noted, again placing his cold hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “You have proven once again that your skills far surpass many in our ranks.”  
  
Sirius nodded, smiling as Voldemort offered him words of praise. “I was right in thinking that you are quite _extraordinary_. It was quite _creative_ of you to think of utilizing fiendfyre. Very impressive, indeed.”  
  
“Thank you, my lord.”  
  
At last, the flames dwindled, exposing the remains of the seven bodies. _Nothing but charred remains, ashes_. Still exhilarated from the rush of the evening’s events, he approached the remains, curious to see the effect of fiendfyre on human flesh. He wandered through the small are where the bodies had lain, kicking charred bits of what he presumed had once been bone, pausing as he caught sight of something glimmering in the moonlight. Sirius froze, bile rising in his mouth. _No. No, it can’t. Please, no_. Lying amongst the rubble was an emerald ring. Hands trembling, Sirius bent down to retrieve it, nearly dropping the piece of jewelry as he hands began to shake further still. He held the ring out to the light, squinting as brilliant-cut diamonds surrounding the emerald flashed rays of light into his eyes. He felt his heart drop as he read the engraving on the inside of the band. _Toujours Pur_.  
  
Sirius turned his head, catching sight of Malfoy, who watched him with a vindictive smirk on his lips. Sirius clutched the ring tightly in the palm of his hand, turning on his heel and apparating from the park.

* * *

Sirius crashed through the doorway of his home, slamming the door behind him. _Crack_. He barely registered the pain of glass slashing open his right hand as his fist collided with the hallway mirror, distorting his reflection. _I’ll never get to look into her beautiful eyes again, see her beautiful hair and smile as she preened in front of the mirror, getting ready for some charity event or another_. Salty tears trickled down his cheeks as reached for any object in sight, wand all but forgotten, smashing them with his bare hands. _Bang. Crash_. In a fit of rage, he threw furniture across the room, hellbent on only one task; destruction. He needed to do something, _anything_ , to block out the image of his wife, his _Evie_ burning to death as he stood with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, laughing... He pressed his lips closed, choking down a mouthful of bile. Carelessly, Sirius knocked the liquor cabinet aside, retrieving a bottle of firewhiskey from the floor and taking a deep swig. _This isn’t happening, this isn’t happened. I can’t believe that she’s gone..._ He took another sip, wincing as the liquor burned his throat. He needed to drink. He needed to forget... He emitted a blood-curdling shriek, punching the wall. One hand still clutching the bottle of firewhiskey, he swung at the wall, leaving a row of fist-sized holes in the plaster. He turned his head, catching sight of their wedding photo, displayed on the wall. Again, bile rose in his throat. Leaning on the wall for support, Sirius lurched forward, vomiting onto the floor. He wiped the sick off his mouth with the back of his hand. He took a long swig from the bottle again, his heart beating frantically as he thought more clearly of what he’d just done. “I killed her,” he choked, punctuating that statement with another scream.  
  
Clumsily, he brought the bottle to his lips, his aim slightly off, as trails of the dark liquid trickled down neck, burning his flesh. He drank hungrily, desperate for the liquor to take it’s effect on him, to make him forget, at least for a little while. “You’re a monster,” he whispered, biting down on his lower lip, drawing blood. Angrily, he hurtled the bottle at the wall, watching as the glass shattered, spraying the room with amber liquid. He stalked into the kitchen, his eyes glazed as he surveyed the room. He fumbled with the handles on the cabinets, removing the china piece by piece and hurling them across the room, shattering them. His hollow laugh rang out amongst the _crash_ of delicate china against tiled floor. Wordlessly, he produced his wand from his pocket, his hands trembling. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed at the kitchen table, shattering it to pieces. _We’ll never spend another morning sipping tea, lovingly gazing into one another’s eyes._  
  
Manically, he raced up the stairs, pausing only to grab another bottle of firewhiskey, his thoughts distorted. _What did I do, what did I do, oh dear Merlin, what did I do?_ He stumbled into the bedroom, dropping the bottle with a thud to the floor. He paused for a moment, head spinning, as he ran his fingers through his hair. He strode towards the dresser, slamming the contents off of the counter and onto the floor. “FUCK!” he screamed, slamming the mirror with both fists, shattering it. Blood spattered across the glass, flicking droplets onto the cream colored walls. Sirius watched with sickened fascination as the dark red droplets trickled down, leaving a rust colored trail behind. Breathing heavily, he made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the blood dripping from his hands and arms. He caught a whiff of Evelyn’s perfume. Without thinking, he retrieved the half dozen bottles from her vanity, striding back into the bedroom. Barely aware that he was screaming, he hurtled the bottles at the walls, christening the walls with the sickeningly sweet smell of perfume. Gasping for breath, he glanced around the room, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He clutched at it with one hand, willing the pain to stop, as he reached for the bottle of firewhiskey, abandoned on the floor, with the other. He brought the bottle to his lips, chugging down the warm, burning liquid. He gasped for breath, droplets of the liquor burning the corners of his mouth. Again, he brought the bottle to his lips, savoring the burning sensation that dulled the pain of his aching heart, his throbbing head. Swaying slightly, he finished the bottle, hardly aware that he’d consumed entirely too much liquor, and not certain that he entirely cared, at that point. _Maybe it’ll kill me_ , he thought bitterly, tossing the bottle aside. He laughed, a loud, barking laugh, as the bottle shattered against the wall, shards of glass glittering in the faint light as they fell to the carpet. Struggling to keep his balance, Sirius pointed his wand at the bed, tearing the mattress to shreds. _I’ll never get to hold her again, feel her warm skin against mine as we..._ he choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands. _I’m sorry, Evie... I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry..._  
  
Sobbing, Sirius fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. _I fucking killed her, oh dear Merlin I fucking killed her_. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, smearing blood, snot, and tears across his face. “I’m not here and this isn’t happening,” he whispered, his breathing labored as struggled to suppress another wave of tears. “Evelyn,” he screamed, running his bloodied hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. “Make this a dream... Please... Please.... She can’t be gone.” Pulling his knees to his chest, he hugged himself, rocking slightly as tears continued to flow. “No, no, no,” he whispered, barely aware of the shards of glass embedded in his hands, his forearms. Blood flowed freely from his injuries, staining his clothes an inky red. He dug into his pocket, producing Evelyn’s engagement ring. His vision clouded from his tears, he held the ring out before him, watching as it glistened in the dim light of the room. “Evie... No... You can’t... You can’t be gone,” he whispered sadly, choking on his words as tears continued to flow. He shook his head, willing the visions in his head to stop. _I killed her, I killed her, oh dear Merlin... I did it. I killed her. I’m a monster. A monster... Oh god, what am I going to do without her?_


End file.
